Silk & Lace
by linalove
Summary: The Earl of Rochester returns to London after a long term exile.What happens when his eye catches the unknown understudy of his previous lover?Noticing her blossoming talent he takes it upon himself to make her the finest actress the London stage has ever seen.But is it her talent he's interested in or is the taste of revenge a little too sweet for him to pass up? Wilmot/OC.Rated M
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my new story! As you can see I cannot leave the Earl aside.**

**So, this is going to be Alternate Universe with a few historical elements from Rochester's life. It will be a Wilmot/OC story so be prepared.**

**In this story the Earl is not sick; in fact, he is just getting used to the death of his wife who died from smallpox while he recovered from the illness himself. He returns to London after a long term exile.**

**A small note: Rochester was famous for his passion for the theatre and I am using his coaching tendencies in this story. You shall see how.**

**So, please enjoy and comment!**

_**Dedicated to an angel named **_**Michael**_**. The only man who never hurt me as long as he lived and the coolest grandpa ever.**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

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**Silk & Lace**

**Chapter 1**

'_**Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.'**__**  
~**__**William Shakespeare**_

_**1681, Woodstock, Oxfordshire  
**_

The heavy door was pushed open with force and the servant in the corridor bowed low, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"My Lord. Welcome." His voice was strong as he spoke but the man in front of him neither appreciated the words nor craved them.

"Out of my way." He snapped as he let go of the door handle and made his way into the large house, his walking stick clanking loudly against the marble floors of Woodstock manor. He entered the large parlor and shrugged out of his cloak before he let his eyes peruse the cold room.

"There is no fire." He remarked as he turned to eye his servant with reproach, "Build one." He sneered and then clanked his cane loudly against the ground, "Alcock!" he barked imperiously as his eyes went to the empty liquor cabinet.

"My Lord?" the servant was breathless as he entered the parlor, his hands full of clothes.

"Prepare my chamber and then restock the cabinet and cellar." He said quietly as he let his eyes roam the dark red settee by the fireplace, "Hand me the King's letter." He outstretched an ink stained hand and as he did so his golden ring glimmered in the sunlight.

Alcock blinked and then thrust the pile of freshly ironed clothes in the other servant's arms. The man took them with a small stagger, his small frame at an odd angle from the weight.

Alcock brushed his hands against his cloak and then pulled out the letter. He handed it to his master and bowed.

"Now be gone."

"My Lord Rochester." Alcock smirked and the Earl waved his hand at him impatiently.

Alcock motioned for the other servant to follow him and when they were gone Lord Rochester threw away his walking stick and sat elegantly in the settee. He leaned back and stretched his legs out on the cushions, the lost feeling of arrogance back as he reacquainted himself with his forgotten home.

He unfolded the letter and craned his neck as he brushed his fingers over the King's seal. He smirked.

"Can't live without me, can you?" he murmured as he quickly read through the lines.

Once he was finished he grimaced and looked up, his eyes falling out of the window.

"Condolences. I do not need your condolences. I need your money." He groaned and looked back down at the letter. The last lines caught his interest.

_Accompany me to the premiere of the season's greatest production in our renovated stage and I shall speak with you of matters regarding your personal gratification._

"Personal gratification. Our monarch can surely express himself." He drawled sarcastically as he scrunched up the letter and threw it carelessly on the settee beside him.

He brought his fingers to his jaw and gently tapped it, deep in thought while Alcock appeared with a wine bottle and a glass.

"My Lord." Alcock announced himself and the Earl grabbed the glass from the tray and took a generous sip. He eyed the wrinkled letter and then looked up at his servant.

"Prepare the horses for tonight. We're going to London." He said brusquely and Alcock frowned.

"So soon, my Lord?"

"The King's invited me to the playhouse." Rochester twirled the wine in his hand with small movements, "I cannot decline."

"But would it be prudent? Lady Rochester has been dead for only six months-…"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" The Earl cut him off as he eyed him with a sneer, "Lady Rochester is dead. It won't matter to her if I decide to go to the theatre or not, will it? Not anymore." His eyes flashed with a foreign emotion before he turned his gaze away.

"Do as I said." He murmured with a scowl, "And build a fucking fire!" he added with irk.

Alcock resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bowed instead, "As you wish, my Lord. I shall prepare the bath for you." He said quietly but the Earl was not interested in his words. He was already smoothing out the wrinkled letter with glimmering eyes and an upturned mouth.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

He pressed the coins harshly into the man's hand and then pushed the curtains away. He stepped into the theatre and the people stopped whatever they were doing to turn and look at him. Some faces showed surprise, others amusement and some were filled with sadness. _Pity_. He hated that emotion and he had no need of it. He snarled and the grimace made the people resume their activities.

He stepped onto the lavish red carpet with his boots and the sea of people parted to let him pass. A couple of women, a blonde and a redhead, giggled as he passed by them and he smirked at them. The blonde one flushed and he winked at her just to increase the obnoxious blush on her skin. It worked and he fought the urge to roll his eyes as he started climbing the steps that led to the boxes.

A patron stopped him just before he entered his usual box.

"My Lord Rochester." He bowed and then straightened, "This way. The King's waiting for you in his box." He waved a hand towards the opposite direction and Wilmot cocked an eyebrow and followed the man, a small devious smirk on his face.

The King's box? Pity had its perks after all.

"Through here." The man opened the red and gold trimmed curtains for him and Rochester walked in. He came to stand behind the King's seat, slowly twirling his cane between his fingers.

Then the King raised his hand and beckoned him over with two fingers. Rochester's eyebrows almost disappeared under his wig but he took his hat off and approached, bowing as he did so.

"Your Majesty." He murmured smoothly and the King turned to look at him.

"Johnny, welcome. Take a seat." He waved his hand at the armchair next to him and Rochester hesitated briefly before he took a seat.

"You look well." The King remarked and the Earl fought the urge to roll his eyes, "I see that you recovered well." The King murmured, "I heard about Elizabeth. She was not so lucky, was she? My condolences."

Rochester ran his tongue over his teeth before he inclined his head, not trusting his mouth enough to speak.

"How do you find London?" the King asked before he turned his eyes on the stage.

Rochester eyed the stage as well before he replied, "Invigorating as always, your Majesty. But may I ask why you decided to bring me back?" he turned his eyes on his King, "Why now?'

The King leaned back in his chair and eyed the people in their seats, "You're a good speaker. Your words saved my throne and therefore I am willing to forget the public humiliation you caused me." He looked at him.

"But for what price?" Rochester narrowed his eyes.

"No price yet." The King replied almost pleasantly but Rochester was not fooled.

"Yet being the key word, your Majesty." He remarked and the King turned to him.

"Precisely. Enjoy the play. I imagine you've missed the playhouse." He smiled but it looked more like a grimace.

"Indeed, Sir." Rochester turned around to face the stage.

"Lizzie Barry is the protagonist again." The King noted and Rochester almost sneered.

"In _The Taming of the Shrew_." He murmured.

"Indeed."

"Your Majesty must forgive me if I say that it suits her." Rochester remarked cruelly and the King turned to look at him.

"You're still upset over her rejection. Don't be pathetic, Johnny. She'd never come close to you while you were carrying the pox on you. You know it. The public is still shocked that she has returned to the theatre after such a short time." He said casually and Rochester bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to bleed. Pain grounded him.

"Short time? Was she ill?" his eyes glimmered with malicious intent and the King frowned.

"No…She gave birth to a child. Did you not know?" he asked and Rochester froze momentarily before he turned to look at the monarch.

"Beg pardon?" he frowned.

"Four months ago she gave birth to a daughter." The King waved his hand at the stage.

"You must be mistaken, your Majesty. Four months ago I received a letter from her. She claimed that she lost my child. That it was a stillborn." The Earl almost hissed and his fingers tightened around the handle of his walking stick.

The King regarded him dispassionately, "It is you the one who is mistaken, Johnny. You may look upon the child yourself. She carries it around in the theatre, leaving it in the care of the wenches while she's acting. It's ridiculous really. She'd be fired if it wasn't for her talent. Now hush, it is starting."

Rochester's eyes widened minutely at the news and his gaze fell upon the stage, harsh and cold and as sharp as a knife.

The curtain rose and as the play started Rochester leaned back in his chair, trying to seem relaxed but inside he was burning with fury.

The moment Elizabeth Barry stepped onto the stage his eyes narrowed and his hands tightened upon the arms of his seat. He ground his boots hard against the carpeted floor, forcing himself to be still but by the second act he could not sit still anymore.

With a quick excuse to the King he stood up and walked away from the box. His long feet carried him backstage but as he made to enter the dressing rooms a small figure stepped into his way.

"You cannot go in there, sir."

Rochester eyed the woman standing between him and the dressing rooms and then sneered.

"Step aside, madam." He cocked an eyebrow but the blue eyed woman held her ground.

"Your Lordship must forgive me but I cannot let you in. Mrs. Barry has forbidden it." She added in a quiet tone and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Do you know who I am-…"

"I do, my Lord Rochester." She said quickly, "But I cannot. Not now." She murmured and then her eyes flickered towards the curtains, "But I think I know what you wish to see, sir." She locked eyes with him.

He leaned against his cane and regarded the blonde woman with interest.

"What's your name?" he asked her smoothly as he eyed her form with curious eyes. The pale blue color of her dress accentuated her pale skin and light hair and the corset defined her waist, complimenting her figure in the subtlest of ways.

"Chantal, my Lord." She replied with a small flush and he smirked.

"And how do you know what I wish to see, madam?" he cocked his head to the side.

Chantal swallowed hard, "I'd imagine you want to see your daughter." She whispered and he tensed.

"You're mistaken, madam. My only wish is to take her. Not see her." And with those words he turned abruptly and walked away, reminding himself that he should not cause a scandal on his first day in London. His reputation could afford no more black stains of shame.

He exited the theatre and entered his carriage. He reached up and took off his hat and wig before he threw them onto the seat next to him. His eyes flickered outside the carriage window. He slapped his hand hard against the roof and the driver tugged on the reins. The carriage took off but there was only one thing in his mind as they left the playhouse behind.

Elizabeth Barry had played him for a fool. He was not one and he did not plan to remain known as one for long.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Days later…_

The fire cackled loudly in the silence of his study and even when his vision started to become blurry he did not remove his eyes from the flames. He flexed his fingers slightly around the wine goblet and readjusted his feet upon the desk before he took a small sip. He let his head loll back against the armchair but when he heard footsteps and loud baby cries he tensed up. His back went rigid and he sat up. He turned his eyes on the closed study door and waited until a knock arrived.

"Come in." he called as he lowered his legs from the desk.

The door opened and Alcock with another servant walked in. In Alcock's arms there was a bundle of covers.

The Earl placed his glass on the desk and beckoned him over with his hand.

Alcock approached and bowed before he presented the baby to him. The Earl's eyes roamed the baby's form; from the child's face and rosy cheeks to the little feet that were protruding from the covers.

He snarled, "Who dressed this child in cold silk? And lacy socks? Fetch warm linens and a blanket immediately." He snapped to the servant standing behind Alcock. He bowed and walked away quickly.

"Mrs. Barry is sending her regards, my Lord." Alcock said and he winced when the baby gave a pathetic whimper before she started squirming roughly in his arms.

The Earl looked up at his servant, "Regards, you say?" he murmured, "So, she was expecting this?"

"Yes, my Lord. Your lawyer had already spoken with her." Alcock nodded his head and Rochester looked away, a sneer upon his features.

"Did she not say anything else?" he asked ever so quietly.

"Yes, my Lord. She said that the child's name is Elizabeth." Alcock cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

The Earl's eyes fell upon him for a moment and then they settled on the child.

"Elizabeth." He murmured.

He reached out and touched the baby's cheek with his fingers, his eyes curious as he eyed her rosy cheeks and honey brown eyes. He brushed his fingertips over her whimpering mouth and when she latched onto his finger and started suckling he frowned deeply.

"The child is hungry. Fetch the wet-nurse from Adderbury immediately." He looked up at Alcock who bowed and nodded.

"Aye, me Lord. Anything else?" he asked expectantly but the Earl removed his hand from the baby's mouth and shook his head.

"Leave." He waved his hand at him and Alcock frowned but did not object.

He straightened and then slowly walked out of Rochester's study with the child in his arms.

The Earl settled his eyes upon the fire again, wine glass abandoned on his desk as the glimmering flames danced wildly in his dark eyes. Inside them was reflected everything that he would never say.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_A week later, Duke's theatre, London_

"What is happening back there?" The Earl drawled as he leaned against his walking stick and turned his gaze towards backstage.

The Earl of Dorset glanced towards the commotion as well and rolled his eyes.

"Lizzie Barry scolding her understudy again." He said as his eyes perused the dressing rooms.

Rochester cocked an eyebrow, "Why is that?" But then his eyes widened slightly when he noticed that the understudy was the woman he had met on his first day back in London. What was her name…?

"She's is not letting the poor lamb act. Not even when she's sick with the flu. Just look." Sackville motioned towards Barry who was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, "She's afraid they will steal her luminance." He scoffed.

"What is her name?' Rochester motioned towards the understudy and his friend eyed him with a smirk before he replied.

"Paige. Chantal Paige." He replied and Rochester narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the blonde woman. Ah, yes. _Chantal_. He remembered her.

She was shaking her head in compliance to Barry's scolding but her fingers were curled in tight fists upon her skirts. Her wavy hair was pulled back in a low bun but a few rebellious blonde curls were falling over her face, trying but failing to hide her blush.

"Has she ever acted on stage?" Rochester asked without taking his eyes off of his newest prey.

Sackville snorted, "No. But Betterton believes she has potential. Well, not that she'll ever have the chance to show it." He muttered, "Now, let's go find our seats." He said but Rochester was already walking towards Barry and Ms. Paige.

Sackville groaned and threw his hands up in surrender before he stood back and waited grudgingly.

Rochester approached the two women and Ms. Paige was the first to notice him. She quickly stepped back and bowed.

"My Lord." She murmured and Elizabeth turned to him as well. She didn't bow but gave a small incline of her head.

"How very undignified for two ladies to be quarrelling like drunkards in a crowded tavern." He drawled and Ms. Paige had the sensitivity to flush.

"You would know, my Lord." Elizabeth replied as she sniffed and dabbed at her nose and eyes again.

The Earl eyed her coolly before he replied, "Yes, but this is a playhouse, Mrs. Barry." He murmured before he turned his attention on Ms. Paige, "Do you know the lines, madam?" he asked as he eyed her critically.

"Of course, my Lord." She replied quickly.

"There is no need. I am capable of acting." Barry cut in as she eyed her former lover with disapproval, "Surely you know that. Excuse me but I must prepare for the first act." She said brusquely before she turned to give a warning look at her understudy.

Ms. Paige looked at her square in the eye but did not speak as Barry walked away.

The Earl's dark eyes burned holes in Elizabeth's back as she made her retreat but then his attention was grasped by Ms. Paige's voice.

"Forgive me, my Lord." She said quietly as she took a step closer.

He blinked and turned to look at her, "Ms. Paige?" he raised a single eyebrow down at her.

"How is the child?" she asked timidly and he tensed up, his entire form going rigid before he narrowed his eyes at her in sheer displeasure.

"And what interest is the child to you?" he asked her and she swallowed thickly.

"None, my Lord." She quickly amended, "I am simply worried." She murmured and he set his jaw.

"Well, Ms. Paige, it might have come to your notice that the child has my name now. You mustn't worry. What you must worry about is your career, which you will forgive the comment, is not going to go much further if you keep hiding backstage." He told her sharply and her eyes widened at the bite in his voice.

"I must apologize then-…" she started but she was cut off.

"Good evening, madam." He bid her coldly before he turned and walked away, his intricate coat billowing behind him.

Ms. Paige watched his retreat with wide eyes before she turned and fled, swiftly disappearing into the dressing rooms.

Lord Sackville smirked as Rochester approached him and chuckled, "Two times scolded in one night." He snorted.

"She's impudent." Rochester snarled.

"Impudent?"

"She asked how my Elizabeth is." The Earl ground out as they started walking towards the boxes.

Lord Sackville paused, "Well, not surprising since she was the one taking care of her during her stay here." He pointed out and Rochester paused.

"What?"

"That's right. In her free time she played the wet-nurse for Barry. And she has a lot of leisure, I assure you. Now come along or we'll be late." He tugged on his friend's sleeve but the Earl of Rochester was no longer interested in the play. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

**End of chapter 1**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! So, you liked it? Hated it? Shall I post more?**

**Oh and only **_**this**_** chapter will be from the Earl's point of view. We shall meet Chantal in the next one.**

**Please review before you go! I am excited to know your thoughts!**

**P.S: The Earl of Rochester did have a child with Elizabeth Barry but he took it from her charge after a while. I did not make that up. ;o)**

**Join me on Facebook for news, info and much more! The link's on my profile.**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Welcome to the second chapter! I want to thank all my reviewers for their support! Your words mean a lot!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

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**Chapter 2**

_**Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.**_

_**~W. Shakespeare**_

_London, Dorset Garden Theatre_

She dipped the quill carefully into the small inkpot by her side and then brought it to the paper balanced precariously upon her lap. She shifted in her seat and tried to make herself as invisible as possible as she attended the rehearsal. Her eyes followed Elizabeth Barry as she paced up and down the stage and Mr. Harris, who was standing to the right side of the stage, closed his eyes and side as the actress started murmuring the words of the same scene over and over again.

"_I do not know,_

_One of my sex; no woman's face remember,  
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen  
More that I may call men than you, good friend,  
And my dear father: how features are abroad,  
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,  
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish  
Any companion in the world but you,  
Nor can imagination form a shape,  
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle  
Something too wildly and my father's precepts  
I therein do forget."_

She paused and Chantal watched as she rubbed her temples in sheer aggravation.

"Lizzie, this is just a first rehearsal. Surely you've done it enough times for today. It's getting late and you should go home." Mr. Harris spoke up at last and Chantal flexed her shoulders and eyed her notes while she listened to their conversation.

"Late? It's not late. I have to get ready for tonight's performance." Elizabeth said firmly and Chantal's eyes snapped up while dread twisted her stomach into tight knots.

_Not again._

"Lizzie, we agreed that Ms. Paige will take over from now own whilst you prepare for _The Tempest_." Mr. Harris said quietly but Chantal knew that it was a lost fight. She had been trying for months to get onto that stage, even for a small part but she didn't have the chance to do so. She also didn't have the chance to return Mr. Betterton's trust. He was the one who had hired her and probably the only one who was aware of her possibilities.

"And I said that she is not ready." Barry fired back and Chantal's anger flared.

"And she won't be unless she knows that she has to step on this stage." Mr. Harris replied.

"The discussion is over, Mr. Harris. I have enough time for both projects."

Chantal watched as the other woman walked away and she stood as well, gathering her notes and ink with quick movements. Her chance was gone. Again.

"Ms. Paige." Mr. Harris called as he climbed down from the stage and approached her.

Chantal turned to him, "Sir."

He gave a small smile, "You're very studious. Your ardour will be compensated." He said quietly and Chantal looked away for a moment.

"I am twenty five years old, Mr. Harris. I should have been acting by now." She said with agitation.

"And you shall." He objected weakly.

"When? When Mrs. Barry decides that she no longer wishes to dominate the London stage? I am wasting my time and energy here. How am I supposed to learn if I do not practice?" she cried helplessly but then she took a deep breath and shook her head, "I apologize." She murmured, "It is not your fault."

"No need, Ms. Paige. If you so desire it I shall speak to Mr. Betterton. Perhaps he may relieve you from your position as Mrs. Barry's understudy and give you a part in the new production." He placed his hands behind his back and regarded her seriously.

Chantal swallowed hard but shook her head, "No, sir. I won't start a war with the finest actress on our stage. Excuse me, I must help in the dressing rooms." She murmured before she turned and headed backstage.

"Ms. Paige." His voice caused her to falter.

"Mr. Harris?" she turned to look at him from over her shoulder.

"You're a good actress." He told her and she smiled sadly.

"Am I? I am not so sure." She whispered before she turned and walked away with hurried footsteps.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Mrs. Barry's dressing room and closet was a mess. Chantal looked at the clock and sighed. Only five minutes until the play's end. She had little time to tidy up before the theatre closed for the day. Before she had time to practice on her own and gather her thoughts properly. She was hired as an actress, she was paid to be one but she was not one. She was just Mrs. Barry's helper, her right hand. Nothing more nothing less.

She made sure to put away all the unnecessary costumes and wigs and placed the new production's clothes into the closet. As she bothered with the clothes her eye caught something at the corner of the closet, something familiar. She frowned and leaned down to pick it up.

Her fingers curled tightly around the baby blanket and she smiled a bit. She pulled out the white blanket with the lacy trimming and looked at it.

"Why are you still here?" she murmured with surprise. She knew it was Mrs. Barry's, well her baby's, so why was it not with the child? Little Elizabeth never slept without it as far as Chantal knew. And she knew for she had put the child to sleep numerous times in the past three months.

Shaking her head she pulled it out and stepped back from the dresser, shutting the door.

"Help me out of the dress and then stand by the door. Don't let anyone in." Barry's voice cut through her musings and she turned around.

The actress seemed…ruffled.

"Of course." Chantal thrust the blanket under her arm and walked over to loosen the laces of Barry's costume. When it was loosened enough Elizabeth stepped away and motioned towards the entrance.

"Do as I said." She muttered and Chantal opened her mouth to speak, to inform her that she was not her servant but the other actress was already walking away towards the mirror.

Chantal frowned at the sour, well sourer, mood of the woman and turned to walk out.

As soon as she stepped in she noticed someone approaching the dressing room. Her eyes widened minutely and she quickly bowed her head.

"My Lord." She murmured as she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes, "Good evening."

"Is she in?" Lord Rochester asked her curtly as he eyed her briefly.

"Yes, sir." Chantal nodded but as he made to pass she stepped into his way.

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Not again, Ms. Paige. Step aside for I am not known for backhanding women." He drawled darkly and she swallowed hard.

"My Lord, I have orders not to-…Oh!" she was pushed out of the way a moment later. He grabbed both of her shoulders and nearly swept her off her feet as he put her to the side. Like she was a piece of furniture that needed to be put at its proper place.

As he let go of her he pushed the curtains away and walked unceremoniously in, leaving her sputtering like a fish.

She took a step back but then she realized that she still held onto the blanket. Not wanting to be accused of thievery she stepped to the side and waited. As she did so she couldn't help but listen to the conversation…If one could call it that.

"I cannot believe you're saying this. I gave her to you, didn't I? I didn't hide her from you. What more do you want?" Barry's voice was impatient and as Chantal looked ahead she noticed Mr. Etherege by the corridor. She quickly lowered her head for she knew exactly the nature of their relationship. He was her newest suitor…Well, lover was the most accurate word for he was already married.

"I knew you didn't care for anyone but I cannot fathom the notion of you not caring for the child. Sending her to me in silk and lace? Trying to prove what? Your wealth? I am sorry to tell you this, but you were nothing before me. Shall I remind you the public humiliation you endured before my coaching? You have to give me answers. What is wrong with the child? The wet-nurse cannot make her to stop crying at nights. Is she ill? Does she miss your milk? For God's sake, woman! Speak!" The Earl's voice was loud and Chantal bit her lip because she knew the answer to his latest questions.

"Not as far as I know." Barry replied calmly.

"As far as you know?"

"It's not in my nature to give, John. You know that."

"That is your answer? Did you even spend time with her at all?" The Earl's voice held a hint of desperation among the fury.

"Is that all?" The actress's voice was so composed that Chantal was a bit shocked. She didn't even know her own child.

"Indeed, Mrs. Barry. That is all." He said at last and she heard the telltale sound of his footsteps as he headed for the exit.

Chantal looked up at him as he made his ay out of the room and she tried to catch his eyes but he did not even glanced her way. He passed by George Etherege and didn't look at him either and once Etherege was into Barry's dressing room only then did Chantal go after the Earl.

"My Lord!" she called as she tried to catch up to him, "My Lord Rochester!" She pushed her way through a group of women who giggled as they watched her running after the Earl and when he was ready to walk into one of the girls' rooms she finally caught up with him.

"My Lord!" she repeated as she touched his arm. He whirled around to face her with surprise.

"Ms. Paige?" he frowned as he eyed her with interest.

Chantal fought for breath and she nodded, "Forgive me, my Lord, but I have something to give you." She pulled the blanket from under her arm and smoothed it out before she handed it over to him, "For Elizabeth." She said and one of his eyebrows went up as he gazed at the item.

"I don't understand." He said as he eyed the blanket critically and then raised his dark eyes on her.

"For the child." She repeated and he leaned casually against his walking stick.

"Is it Christmas?" He asked her mockingly and she frowned.

"No, sir. I am sorry, my Lord, I didn't express myself properly-…"

"And you should have. You're an actress after all….Or so I hear." His eyes roamed her form and she flushed.

"It's Lizzie's blanket. She cannot sleep without it. That's why she is crying." Chantal murmured quietly and the Earl stiffened.

"And how would you know that?" He asked her sharply, obviously displeased at having his private affairs discussed with a stranger.

Chantal faltered, "I just know. Please." She said softly and he eyed her hand before he rolled his eyes and grabbed the blanket from her.

"Also, forgive my impudence, sir, but the only problem is this cloth. The child has never breastfed from Mrs. Barry. So, she's not hungry." She added as she took a step back and the Earl's eyes followed her with interest.

"Who hired you, Ms. Paige?" He asked her abruptly and she frowned at the change of subject.

"Mr. Betterton himself, my Lord. Why?" She asked as she clasped her hands together in front of her belly.

His eyes studied her for a moment before he stepped closer, "Do not hunch, madam. It's very unladylike for a woman, let alone an actress." He ordered sharply and Chantal straightened. She hadn't even realized that she had cowered in front of him.

"Better. You say Mr. Betterton hired you, but judging from his wife, he is not the best judge." He drawled as he cocked his head to the side and regarded her curiously, "So, unless the public sees you on that stage, no one will know for sure if you have the talent. Do something about that, Ms. Paige." He stepped back and eyed her intently, "Stop hiding in the background."

"They're not letting me-…" She started to object but he did not let her.

"The worst form of cowardice is blaming others for our choices. There's always a choice, I assure you." He cut her off and Chantal frowned deeply before she remembered herself and inclined her head.

"My Lord." She murmured before she turned to go, feeling even less adequate for an actress than before.

"Ms. Paige." His voice stopped her from walking away and she reluctantly turned her face towards him.

"Your Lordship?" she frowned.

"Beth is fine." He almost ground out before he turned and disappeared into one of the back rooms.

Chantal's eyebrows went high up her forehead at his words and she was momentarily confused before recognition lit up her features.

Beth; not Lizzie or Elizabeth. Of course. She shook her head and then walked away with a small smile.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Duke's Theatre, a week later…_

"Don't go in there." Molly Luscombe slapped a hand hard against the wall, halting Chantal's entrance into the dressing room.

"I have to-…" she motioned to the various costumes in her hands but Molly cut her off with a shake of her head.

"Lord Rochester is in there with one of the girls. It may take a while. You may put the dresses in the other room." Molly pointed towards the next dressing chamber and Chantal nodded.

"Very well." She murmured as she stepped back with reluctance.

"Why are you here so late? Everyone's gone by now. Well, the actors anyway." Molly commented with a roll of her eyes as she regarded the young woman with a frown.

"Um, it's the only time I can practice alone." Chantal replied uncomfortably, "Is it an inconvenience?" she frowned but she hoped no one scolded her for it.

"No, but why not go home?" Molly asked her curiously and she stepped forward as female high pitched squeal came from the room behind her. Chantal flushed but replied nonetheless.

"My sister is newlywed. Our home is too small for the three of us anyway so I am trying to give them a little privacy. It's the least I can do since my wages don't help much. It's all until they finish building their own house." Chantal replied and then smirked, "Are you going to stay there all night?" She asked and Molly rolled her eyes.

"Till they're done, aye. Now be gone. Your secret's safe." The older woman winked as she shooed her away and Chantal chuckled before she turned and disappeared into the empty dressing room.

She took a deep breath as she finally found herself alone and smiled a bit. She placed the dresses in a chair and then stretched a bit to relieve the tension in her shoulders and back. Her feet also hurt from walking up and down all evening, but she was glad of the quietness the night brought. She resisted the urge to yawn and reached down to pull the play from under the pile of clothes and then took a look around.

The room was dimmed, with only a few candles illuminating the relatively large space. Various costumes, wigs and theatrical properties were lying scattered about, but she did not care of the messy room. She came to stand in the middle of the large space and before that she made sure that the curtains were drawn, concealing her from any curious eyes.

She took a deep breath and took a look at the lines. But she had no need; she had memorized them all by heart months ago. Before the production had even started; before her employment to the theatre.

She craned her neck and turned her face away from the mirror across from her. She could never bear to look at herself when she acted. It was her weakness and everyone knew it. How could they employ an actress who couldn't even look upon herself while she delivered? It was uncalled for. Acting could not bear the weight of embarrassment.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind she straightened her posture and started speaking.

"_What! Will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see, _

_She is your treasure, she must have a husband; _

_I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, _

_And for your love to her lead apes in hell. _

_Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep _

_Till I can find occasion of revenge."_

She came to a sudden stop and shook her head. No, she did not like it. The tone of her voice was too bleak, too weak for such spark. Katharina was not a little wisp; she was a tiger and should be played as such. She took a few steps forward and then turned in a circle before she took a look at the lines. She flipped through the play and then came to a halt when she reached act II.

She cleared her throat and started again, "_Mov'd! In good time: let him that mov'd you hither, remove your hence. I knew you at the first, you were a movable."_ She paused when it came to Petruchio's lines and groaned in resignation. She could not work the dialogues alone. She shook her head severely as she closed both hands around the play and squeezed it in sheer aggravation.

"_Why, what's a movable?"_ The sudden voice startled her and she turned around abruptly. A gold and black walking stick parted the curtains and then a pair of expensive brown boots appeared. Her eyes moved up the man's form and she froze.

She blinked rapidly and then remembering herself she bowed low, her eyes on the floor.

"My Lord." She murmured with her heart beating wildly against her chest.

"Continue." Lord Rochester waved his walking stick imperiously at her and she looked up at him startled.

"Pardon, my Lord?" She whispered with wide eyes, her blue eyes swimming with dread.

"The lines." He snapped as he came to stand a few feet away from her, "Carry on with them." He said as he regarded her dispassionately with his brown eyes and she blinked.

"My Lord-…"

"_Why, what's a movable?"_ He cut her off sharply and she gulped before she straightened and took a quick look at the lines.

"_A-a joint stool."_ She delivered and a tiny fleck of smugness passed through his eyes but she did not see it.

"_Thou hast hit it: come sit on me."_ He almost purred as he started circling her. She turned around and followed his movements hesitantly.

"_Asses are made to bear, and so are you."_ She whispered and his eyes narrowed. She knew he was saving his displeasure for later.

"_Women are made to bear, and so are you."_ He shot back clearly, with no stammer.

"_No such jade as bear you, if me you mean."_ She replied in a firmer tone.

He almost smirked, but simply kept walking around her like a lion, his cane thudding against the floor with every step he took.

"_Alas, good Kate! I will not burden thee; for, knowing thee to be young and light."_

"_Too light for such a swain as you to catch, and yet as heavy as my weight should_ _be."_ She followed his eyes with her own, her voice gradually getting louder.

"_Should be? Should buz."_ His mouth twitched and his eyes did a quick perusal of her body, causing her to falter a bit.

"_Well ta'en, and like a buzzard."_

"_O slow-wing turtle! Shall a buzzard take thee?"_ His eyes flashed and she swallowed hard before she continued.

"_Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard."_

"_Come, come, you wasp; I faith, you are too angry."_ He leaned forward and his breath fell upon her ear like a caress. She shivered and tried to move back.

"_If I be waspish, best b-beware my sting."_ She stumbled over the words and his eyes flashed with reproach at her mistake. Why should he be angry? What did he _want_? Besides playing with her, of course.

"_My remedy is then, to pluck it out!"_ His voice turned sharp as he came to stand in front of her.

"_Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies."_ Her voice regained its strength again and he smirked slightly.

"_Who knows not where the wasp does wear his sting? In his tail."_ Hs tone was mocking again but she was not sure if it was directed to her or Katharina.

"_In his tongue."_ She fired back with irk.

"_Whose tongue?"_ he murmured as he leaned forward a bit, his mouth turned upwards at the corners.

"_Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell!"_

"_What? With my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again. Good Kate, I am a_ _gentleman."_ He was grinning fully by then and his eyes were narrowed as he twirled the head of his walking stick around his fingers.

"_That I'll try."_ And then her hand rose, ready to strike, but she faltered. He was an Earl. Her fingers created a fist and she slowly lowered it while his eyes lost their mischievous glimmer.

"Why did you stop? Don't you know that you must strike at this moment? You're going to have to on stage." He remarked as he regarded her with distaste and then started circling her, "Walk." He hissed into her ear and she flinched.

"My Lord?" she asked with confusion.

"Walk, Ms. Paige." He ordered again and she turned around to face him.

"Why should I do as you command?" her eyes narrowed, "You intruded on my rehearsal."

He smirked at that, "Rehearsal, you say? So, after this you're ready to step on stage?" he waved his hand at her form and she faltered.

"You're ready to take Mrs. Barry's place?" he leaned forward and grasped her chin between his fingers, "Forgive me, madam, but I see no Katharina. So, perhaps you must enhance your efforts." His fingers tightened upon her chin and she tried to pull back, "Don't you agree, _Chantal_?" He breathed her name out and grinned as he eyed her mouth. She pulled back from him and his grin only widened.

"If you're here to insult me, don't bother, my Lord. I am _just_ an understudy." She fired back and he chuckled.

"Indeed you are." His decadent eyes roamed her form and she took a step back as he cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.

"You shall join me in my house tomorrow." He announced suddenly, "After the sun has risen. A carriage shall be waiting for you outside the theatre." He locked eyes with her, "Do _not_ be late."

"You must be mistaken, sir. I am not a courtesan." She replied in a strong voice and her eyes flashed with fire and indignation.

Lord Rochester paused and looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Who said I was interested in your…_virtues_, Ms. Paige?" he remarked cruelly and she flinched, "And do save your fire for the role. I am not impressed by it outside the playhouse." He told her coldly before he turned and headed for the curtains that led to the corridors, "Don't be late." He called snappishly before he disappeared, the sounds of his footsteps and walking stick ringing in her ears as he made his retreat.

Chantal released the breath she had been holding and turned to look at one of the mirrors. She raised a hand against her flushed cheek and then looked down at the play with an increasing mixture of excitement and dread.

What had she gotten herself into?

**End of chapter 2.**

**A/N: Thank you for reading!**

**The dialogues in italics are from Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' and from the 'The Taming Of The Shrew'.**

**Please review before you go! Your feedback is needed!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Welcome to the newest chapter! I had to post this!**

**I want to thank: ForeverACharmedOne, MissMisc3, TinkerbellxO, nuckythompson, dionne dance, Leyshla Gisel, XantheXV, music is life 99 xxx and CharlieCats. Thank you for commenting! It means a lot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

'_**There is a lust in man no charm can tame: of loudly publishing his neighbor's shame: On eagles wings immortal scandals fly,**_

_**While virtuous actions are born and die.'**_

_**~William Homey**_

She put the last pin in her hair and then she gazed outside the window. The sun had just risen. She pulled her eyes away from the glass and gazed at the small mirror in front of her. She smoothed down her skirt and swallowed hard.

Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to do as he asked? Did she want to get lost in his web?

She didn't know him in person but she had heard all about him. Earl of Rochester; married man, but unfaithful. A gambler, womanizer and a drunkard. Spending his money on wenches and drinks. Insulter of the King. Carrier of the smallpox but lucky enough to recover from it. Cruel and a mocker.

But there was the other side as well; the one everyone tended to forget because of his escapades.

Great poet but with a tendency to lower his standards just to prove the opposite. Great theatre patron and tutor of the greatest actress the London stage had ever seen. Incredibly intelligent, witty and talented in the art of judging others by merely gazing upon them.

Chantal shook her head in confusion and when she looked into the mirror again she noticed her sister behind her.

"Good morning. Why are you up so early?" her sister asked pleasantly and Chantal bit her lip before she turned around.

"I have business in the theatre, Anne." She murmured as she picked up her cloak and pulled it around her shoulders tightly. Anne paused and her green eyes widened in shock.

"So early? Oh! Are they giving you a part at last?" she almost jumped with joy but Chantal shook her head.

"No. I just have to help around a bit. I'll be back as soon as I can." She smiled as she patted her sister's hand and then walked out of the small parlor. She exited the house and as soon as she stepped into the small porch she leaned against the door for a moment. She took in the calmness of the street and then straightened. If she didn't go the curiosity would eat her up alive. She had to know what he wanted.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the door and started walking down the street. She arrived at the theatre a few minutes later and sure enough a carriage was waiting for her in front of the closed doors. Not wanting to linger in case she changed her mind she walked in and the driver took off into the unknown.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She realized a little too late that the carriage was heading out of London and when the coach turned towards Oxfordshire she tensed up. She had no idea that the Earl was not residing in London. She leaned back and tried to relax but she couldn't. It would take quite a bit to go and return. It would take her all day! What if she was late for the theatre?

Chantal shook her head, took a deep breath and looked outside the carriage window. She had to gather her thoughts before they overwhelmed her. She had a tendency to panic a little too easily. She was sure it was a condition.

So, he kept coming to London and returning to Oxfordshire almost every day? Was he not tired of it? She paused and mulled over that thought. She was pretty sure that he was going to the playhouse for Mrs. Barry but she could be wrong. The woman never accepted him for more than a few moments and when they were together they were constantly arguing. From backstage she had often noticed Lord Rochester's glares towards the actress so she was certain that he did not go there for the joy of her company and insults. No, he was going back there for something else entirely. Especially since the actress had given up her child so easily in order to pursue her career.

The coach came to a sudden halt and she almost fell over. She groaned but when she looked outside and eyed the grand manor her eyes widened.

"Oh my." She murmured as she looked at the grand park that surrounded the house. The carriage door was opened for her a moment later and she stepped outside, still shocked at the beauty of the place.

"This way, madam." A servant approached her and she looked at him.

"Where are we?" she asked because in all honesty she had never left London before.

"Woodstock Park, madam. Please follow me." The servant, a young man no older than twenty, smiled at her and she could do nothing more but follow him.

She tried to keep up but the beauty of the gardens kept attracting her attention. Two large dogs barked and ran towards her and she jumped before she leaned down to pat their heads. The male one nuzzled her hand but the female one growled and bared her teeth at her. She laughed. Women were always jealous and dogs were no different it seemed.

The two large molosser hounds moved away and she hurried up to catch up with the servant who was holding the manor door open for her.

Chantal hesitantly stepped in and the scent of ink and sandalwood assaulted her senses. She inhaled deeply and the servant motioned towards the large parlor.

"Through here." He called and she walked up to him quickly.

As soon as she stepped in she saw a woman sitting in an armchair. In her arms she held Elizabeth.

_Beth._ Chantal quickly corrected herself before she smiled.

The maid looked up and her plain features lit up in a small smile.

"How is she?" Chantal asked quietly but before the maid could answer footsteps approached.

"Take the child away, Nellie." The Earl's voice was firm and not remotely warm and Chantal stiffened before she slowly turned towards him.

His eyes did not fall upon her but she bowed her head nonetheless. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him. His hair was falling over his shoulders, his white shirt was partially hidden beneath his robe and he wore a pair of breeches that fell low on his hips. He looked as if he had just woken up.

The maid quickly stood up and bowed before she took the baby away. The Earl's eyes followed the wet-nurse's form until she was gone and then he walked to the large door. He closed it firmly shut and Chantal looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He rubbed his hands together as if he was applying something on his skin and only then did she notice that his hands were a bit slick with something.

"Sandalwood oil, Ms. Paige." He spoke up and her heart thundered against her chest at his severe voice, "For the spots." He outstretched his ringed hand and as she leaned closer she saw the tiny marks the illness had stained his skin with. They were barely visible but she saw them nonetheless.

"And it is not polite to stare." He murmured and she flushed a bit.

Abruptly his hand reached out and grasped her chin. The scent was even stronger that way.

His eyes locked with hers and she held her breath when they left her eyes to roam her face.

"I must admit you're brave to walk in here, Ms. Paige." He drawled as he let go of her chin and started circling her instead. She tried hard not to cower.

"Brave?" she echoed as she forced herself to be still under his scrutiny.

"Indeed. Coming into my manor without questions, following my command like you're one of my wenches and then having the audacity to look me in the eye while I gave you no permission to do so." He breathed as he paused behind her and spoke into her ear, "Stare right ahead, Ms. Paige." He murmured before he stepped back and walked over to the large French doors. He grabbed the curtains and pushed them aside. The early morning sunlight came through the glass and fell upon her, warm and comfortable. England needed more sun than it was getting.

Lord Rochester walked back to her and started pacing around her again. He circled her two, three, four times until he came to stand right behind her.

Chantal stiffened and as his breath fell upon the back of her neck every hair on her body stood up on end.

His hands fell upon her shoulders and she frowned when he grabbed the two ends of her cloak and started pulling it back. He pushed it off her shoulders and he discarded it quite unceremoniously on the floor before he came to stand in front of her.

He studied her and at her guarded expression he smirked.

"Nervous, Ms. Paige?" he quirked an eyebrow and when she gave a small nod he chuckled, "You must acquire the ability to hold your ground against public observance, Ms. Paige." He murmured, "When you're on stage every single person in the theatre will have their eyes trained upon you. Especially the gentlemen." He added as an afterthought and she grimaced.

"I've no need for male attention, my Lord." She snapped and he smirked.

"Nevertheless, you shall have it. It's irreversible." He noted and it was her turn to cock an eyebrow.

"Are you paying me a compliment, sir?" she asked and he snorted.

"Hardly, my dear. Beauty upon the stage is not enough." He drawled dryly and she flushed.

"But vanity is good." He added and she looked at him with irk.

"I am not vain!" she exclaimed and he tilted his head to the side.

"You must be when you look upon a mirror and see these eyes." He told her simply and she sputtered for a moment but he had already moved passed that.

"Come." He beckoned her towards the desk near the fireplace and she followed albeit a bit suspiciously but not before she leaned down to pick up her discarded cloak.

"What do you want from me, my Lord?" she asked him and when he offered her a seat she declined and remained standing.

Lord Rochester calmly took his seat behind his desk and then he reached out for a few books. He set them in front of him and then reached for the wine bottle to his left. He poured himself a glass, filling it up to the brim before he looked up at her. He took a long sip before he even bothered to reply to her.

"Sit down, Ms. Paige. Have you no manners at all?" he asked her with dancing eyes. He enjoyed her discomfort!

"Not until you answer me." She replied with vehemence.

"I admire the passion for knowledge in all things in a woman but your persistence is starting to set my teeth on edge so kindly take a seat." He told her in a very low voice and Chantal glared at him before she sat down. She clasped her hands on her lap and satisfied by her obedience he leaned back in his seat but not before he slid the books towards her.

"I want you to read those. Study them." He motioned towards the books, "Dryden, Shakespeare, even our little Mr. Etherege."

Chantal looked at him with smugness, "No need, my Lord. I know them all-…"

"By heart, yes." He cut her off and she faltered at the unadulterated reprimand in his eyes and voice, "That does not mean that you understand them." He clarified while enunciating every word.

Chantal swallowed hard, "You mean it's obvious that I don't understand them." She murmured.

"By your recent delivery of Katharina's speech I am certain of it, yes. I don't want you to learn them word by word. I want you to understand the emotions behind the words. The reasons that drive the characters to utter every word and phrase. Am I clear?" he whispered quietly.

Chantal's fingers brushed over the books, "No, I am afraid I don't understand. What do you want from me?" she looked up at him in the eye and he frowned momentarily.

"I want you to stop being the wet-nurse and servant and become an actress. Isn't it obvious?" he cocked an eyebrow, seemingly in confusion.

"Why me? Why has your Lordship chosen me?" she asked in a strong voice.

"I beg pardon?" the Earl was interested now.

"Do you know how many actresses want a part in the playhouse's productions? At least ten and the half of them are prettier than me, my Lord. Perhaps you should choose someone else for your tutoring project." She made to stand up but his hand clamped down on hers from across the desk. She gasped at the force of his hold.

"_You_ are the understudy, not them." He said darkly.

"What does that mean? No one knows if I can act or not! You said it yourself, I am not good." She said as she tried to tug her hand away from his gripping fingers but he held her fast and hard, his ring digging into her skin.

"And you won't be as long as you don't do as I say."

Chantal paused, "You wish to tutor me." She murmured, "Why?"

The Earl let go of her hand and leaned back, satisfied when she did not flee.

"You want the truth?" he asked her casually and she blinked.

"Always." She replied promptly.

"Odd thing for an actress." He told her coldly and she frowned.

"Perhaps." She whispered and he sighed.

"Because I'm bored out of my wits, Ms. Paige. Because my only real recreation is the playhouse and because the current protagonist makes my skin crawl." He said blatantly and she gulped.

"Not because you see hope in me." She clarified and something inside her snapped at the insinuation behind his reason.

"Would it matter to you if I did? You seem quite convinced to remain as you are." He remarked dryly.

"That is not true." She raised her voice and rubbed her temple, "The other actresses, even the chorus girls, are fighting over the roles like dogs after a juicy bone. I am not the only one helpless in our stage, my Lord."

"Yet you're the only one with the potential and you're throwing it away." He told her with a wave of his hand.

"Like you did before your last exile?" she asked and immediately she regretted it.

His eyes darkened and flashed and he stood up, "You have cheek, madam, I'll give you that. But I'd advise you not to speak about my private matters so blatantly." He walked around to her and she stiffened when he placed both hands upon her chair and leaned down, "Do you accept or not?" he asked her lowly and her gaze flickered away from his burning gaze and settled upon his intricate robe.

"I am not sure." She whispered at last and he remained silent.

"Very well. I shall give you time. In the meantime, take these and do as I said. Study them." He pushed the books on her lap and she held onto them with both hands.

"I have them-…'

"I have notes that might help you." It seemed like he was almost forcing himself to speak the words. His features were angered.

Chantal nodded and stood up from the chair, "My Lord." She bowed her head and stepped back. When she was near the door she heard his voice.

"If you decide to accept my offer you must know that I have some rules, Ms. Paige." He called as he walked towards her with his robe billowing behind him.

Chantal turned to him, "Yes?"

He approached her and leaned close into her face. She held her ground as his handsome features stared down upon her critically.

"Number one, you do as I say without questioning me. Number two, you come to me any time I call upon you. Number three, you do not meddle with my child. Number four…" he trailed off as he eyed her face with intensity, "You speak to this to no one." He finished and Chantal raised an eyebrow.

"I see. I have a rule of my own if I decide to agree to your generous offer, my Lord." She said as she took a deep breath.

The Earl looked amused, "Is that so? Let's hear it." He crossed his arms over his chest and Chantal hesitated for a moment before she averted her eyes and replied.

"I shall never be your lover, my Lord. I won't allow it." She said at last.

His response was a husky chuckle and then his hand was on her throat. He curled his fingers around her slender neck and her eyes widened when he brought his lips close to hers.

"We shall see about that, madam." He breathed with scorching eyes before he abruptly released her and stepped back.

"Alcock!" he barked and even Chantal jumped at the volume of his voice.

The door was pushed open a few moments later and a servant appeared.

"Me Lord?" he asked as he eyed Chantal curiously.

"Escort Ms. Paige outside. She shall take the carriage back to London." Rochester ordered before he turned away from both of them. He came to stand by the window but Chantal didn't want to linger.

She followed Alcock out of the study and when they passed through the garden she saw him gazing at them from that very same spot by the window. She averted her eyes from the window and did not look back at the manor until she was in the carriage and on her way back to London.

As she settled into the seat and the driver took off she noticed that the sun was high up on the sky but she felt cold.

She looked down at the books and a feeling of excitement rushed through her like lightning. What if he could really help her? He was a powerful man and the King's constant forgiveness was enough proof that he could do as he pleased with little consequence. If he had made Barry what she was after she had been fired from so many productions who told her that he couldn't help her? And she wanted the help, craved the attention of someone with his wit. She was thrilled with the knowledge that someone had noticed her potential, however big or small that was. She believed in herself or at least she thought that she did until he came out and claimed how little she had grasped Katharina's character.

She flexed her fingers around the books and leaned back against the seat. Even as she the carriage drove away from Woodstock, she had already made her decision. She would accept and she would try hard to meet up to his expectations no matter how high those were. Because despite all his faults the man was a genius and she would take anything he offered because if she wanted to stop being the creature she was she was going to have to do his bidding. But even as she decided she couldn't shake the feeling of fear that came along with the thrill and excitement. Because she knew, she just knew that he had deeper motives. He was not just bored. No, he was planning something and she feared that she'd find out too late.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The inn at Covent Garden was crowded as Molly Luscombe, Chantal and Mr. Harris sat down at a table by the corner. Chantal took a look around her. Most women from the theatre were there and their giggles and voices were already filling the air. She winced at the loud cackles because she knew what all those girls wanted. The theatre was not paying well. What better than find wealthy men ready to hand their coin in their palms for a night of pleasure? It was sad really. The playhouse was not supposed to be a whorehouse. Shakespeare and fornication should not be forced to co-exist.

"What will you have, lass?" Molly broke through Chantal's thoughts and she pulled her eyes away from the women. She blinked and looked at the other woman.

"Um…gin?"

"No, you will have ale." Molly waved her answer off and Chantal looked at the other woman with a frown.

"Why did you ask me then?" she leaned close and Mr. Harris chuckled.

"Because I am buying and ale is cheaper. Got a grandson to raise." Molly replied before she stood and left to fetch their orders.

"How did you think of the play, Ms. Paige?" Mr. Harris asked and she frowned.

"Mrs. Barry stumbled over her words…" she didn't know what else she should say.

The man nodded, "Indeed. She's getting tired from _The Tempest's_ rehearsals." He murmured.

"Then she should let someone else take a part." Molly slapped the three mugs on the table before she sat down, "She should stop licking up the patron's boots as well. Everyone knows what's between her and Betterton." She said with a small grimace.

"You're her favorite in the theatre, Molly." Chantal was a bit surprised by the woman's words.

"So? It doesn't mean I like her." Molly shrugged before she took a sip from her drink.

"Molly, you're not certain." Mr. Harris twirled his ale a bit.

"Certain? Well, my eyes have seen a thing or two. I know what I'm talking about." Molly nodded and Chantal sighed.

"It's not fair though." She muttered.

"Life's ain't fair, love." Molly patted her back.

Chantal took a sip from the ale and resisted the urge to gag. It was terrible that's why it was so cheap.

Suddenly there was a sudden gasp and a giggle and she looked towards the door. Her eyes widened and she wanted to hide under the bloody table.

The Earl of Rochester walked in with his friend and he looked as immaculate as ever. His gold walking stick was glimmering in the candlelight and he was talking animatedly with the Earl of Dorset. The women reared their heads up like cobras at the sight of him.

Molly groaned, "Don't bother, girls." She muttered as she finished the vile ale in one go.

"Yes, our Lord has become picky." Mr. Harris remarked and Chantal looked away from the two Earls after they had seated themselves at a table.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she turned to look at the actor.

"He means that ever since his wife died of smallpox he's been careful in his choice of female company. He's looking for clean women; in short, he's looking for maids." Molly drawled.

"He won't find them in here." Chantal replied incredulously and Mr. Harris chuckled.

"Don't be so sure." He muttered as he motioned with his head towards a table to their left.

Three women were sitting there and a man. They were obviously sisters if one judged from the same hair color and light brown eyes.

Chantal's eyes turned towards Rochester who was in the process of drinking from a goblet but his eyes were trained on the two women. The man at their table seemed to be the plumper one's fiancé.

"I see." Chantal murmured when the two redheads noticed the Earl's eyes on them and flushed three shades of crimson. They were obviously inexperienced.

"That makes sense really." Mr. Harris noted and Chantal's eyes flickered to him.

"Is it? Seducing two girls for mere recreation? He's a widow and an Earl. He could find any woman he wanted and he could marry her. I see no need for this." She waved a hand subtly towards the women.

"Our Lord Rochester detests wives." Molly said in a low voice.

"Why did he get married then?" Chantal was beyond angry by then.

"Because she had a strong income." Molly replied calmly.

"Indeed. She was the richest woman in the county." Mr. Harris added.

Chantal scoffed, "What an adequate reason to marry."

"As adequate as any, Ms. Paige." The voice startled her and both three table occupants looked up startled. Rochester was looming by their table, leaning lightly on his walking stick. His mouth was pursed in devious amusement. He had heard them. Chantal didn't care. Men like him sickened her and they were plenty of others like him at court.

"My Lord." She inclined her head.

"I see London has not lost its essence." He remarked dryly as his eyes flickered towards the redhead at the right. He caught her eye and winked at her and she flushed even more. Chantal knew he was doing it on purpose by then.

"Essence?" Mr. Harris cocked an eyebrow.

"Shamelessly discussing other people's affairs." Rochester replied as he looked at Harris dispassionately.

"Only when they give reason to." The other man replied.

The Earl's eyes narrowed before his gaze fell upon Chantal, heavy and intense, "Do you agree, madam?" he murmured and she blinked.

"I do not like gossip. That's why I rarely come here." She replied.

He chuckled huskily, "Of course. Virgins and supposedly uptight women never come here but they make the mistake at some point." His eyes shone maliciously and Chantal didn't understand his unnecessary venom.

Feeling out of place and very irritated she stood from the table and walked around to him. He didn't even flinch but merely stared down at her with expectation. He enjoyed angering others and he was probably expecting her to attack him right back. He was famous for his quarrels all over London.

"Who ever claimed that I am either, _my_ Lord Rochester?" she murmured loudly enough for him to hear her. He seemed to freeze and his eyes widened minutely before he smirked and eyed her appreciatively.

"Then you might want to join us." He looked towards the redhead who was restless by then, "Your fire must be rather arousing between the sheets." He murmured into her ear and his teeth bit down sharply on her earlobe. She jumped back and away from him while trying hard not to blush. He did not deserve it.

"I am afraid, my Lord, that my rather uptight and conventional appetites will bore you to death. Thus, I have to decline." She then bowed low, aware that everyone was staring at them by then.

She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes and she saw no anger. Just amusement, heat and appraisal.

He took a step towards her and leaned down to her level, "There's Katharina, Ms. Paige." He whispered and his wine scented breath fell upon her nose and lips, hot and heady.

She looked up at him sharply before she turned and walked away. The Earl did not take his eyes off of her until she was gone.

**End of chapter 3**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. Please, please review before you go. It's my own joy and payment!**

**Oh and sandalwood oil was used to cure skin spots of all kinds. I looked that up! ;o)**

**Until next time, loves!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello and welcome back! I want to thank the following people for taking the time to comment: dionne dance, nuckythompson, MissMisc3, Nellie, ForeverACharmedOne, PGAEmma, Leyshla Gisel, TinkerbellxO, CharlieCats and XantheXV. You all deserve a huge hug so, thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

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**Chapter 4**

_**An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.**_

_**~Mahatma Gandhi**_

The manuscript in her hand felt heavy as Elizabeth Barry thrust it unceremoniously to her on her way to her dressing room. Chantal looked at the bound pages with a frown.

"What's this?" she called as she followed the other actress with haste.

"It's his poems and other work." She stated rather sharply and Chantal flipped through the printed pages. The quality seemed high. Odd but familiar.

"His, Mrs. Barry?"

The older actress whirled around to face her with a glare, "Don't play the innocent, Ms. Paige." She took a few steps closer to Chantal and the other woman held her ground against her approach. She was not intimidated by fits of anger. She had no reason to.

"I do not understand." Chantal shook her head and Elizabeth smiled bitterly.

"Someone saw you entering Lord Rochester's carriage a week ago." She pointed out and Chantal tightened her hold around the manuscript.

"And what does that mean?" she asked with a small shrug.

"I am sure he did not invite you to Woodstock to chat. Tell me, do you think his bedchamber is large? Surely such opulence would be peculiar for you. You accept no suitors." Barry eyed her up and down and Chantal wondered if the woman was envious about her conduct with her former lover.

"Unlike most here, I do not visit gentlemen's bed chambers, Mrs. Barry. What is your point? Please, speak clearly for I wish to know for what I am accused off." Chantal raised her chin and Barry snorted in a rather unladylike way.

"My point, my girl, is that he has obviously made you his new pet project. But I wonder why. Well, your looks make his work easier this time. Tell me, is cajoling him effective yet?"

Chantal frowned at the woman's words, "I do not think that the Earl of Rochester would ever submit into any form of cajoling, Mrs. Barry. Do you know him at all?" Chantal murmured as she flipped through the Earl's work.

"_Merely for safety after fame they thirst, for all men would be cowards if they durst." _She slammed the manuscript shut and looked at Barry, "Does this sound like a man like him would accept being coddled for the sake of someone's fame? I don't think so." She outstretched her hand with the poems back but Barry did not take it. She was eyeing Chantal peculiarly.

"I am not impressed by your knowledge, you know. I know what you want and I won't make it easy for you. Now," she turned her back to Chantal and picked up a costume, "Take that and leave me be. I will get ready alone."

Chantal was glad to go and so she turned on her heel and walked out of the dressing room with the manuscript clasped in her hands.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal had seen this manuscript before. That is why she knew that line from Lord Rochester's work. His poems and essays were not circulated among the people because they were not printed widely. His words, often bawdy and crude, were not easily accepted at court so she had been shocked when she had found his work among Barry's belongings one day. She had flipped through them hastily but a few lines had caught her interest.

Frowning, she looked away from the manuscript and hid it under her shawl as she silently made her way towards the gallery of the theatre. She found it easier to read and study there at night with a candle than back home where she could not find a moment's peace.

As she passed through the darkened hall that led to the seats, a walking stick appeared out of nowhere and blocked her entrance. She gave a very undignified and unladylike screech and stumbled back.

Wicked chuckling rang in her ears as the walking stick appeared to be connected with an elegantly sleeved arm.

Chantal squinted and when she realized who had interrupted her entrance she froze.

"Good Lord." She exclaimed as the Earl of Rochester appeared from the shadows and smirked at her. He leaned against his cane and eyed her with amusement as she stood there gaping like a fish.

"Not such a word to describe me exists, Ms. Paige. Surely you're mistaking me for someone else." He came to stand in front of her and looked at her with a cocked eyebrow, "No?"

"My Lord." She quickly bowed, "How did you get in?" she asked and he pursed his lips as he started circling her slowly.

"Not the way you did, I fear." He informed her and she tried hard not to scowl.

"I hid until everyone was gone." She said, not ashamed in the least.

"Did you now?" he finished circling her and came to stand a breath away from her, "Luckily, I do not have to resort to such methods." His hand shot out and grasped her arm. She flinched and almost dropped the manuscript.

"Indeed." She murmured with a profound flush and his eyes narrowed in suspicion before his fingers started groping her arms. Chantal tried to move back but when his fingers slid under her shawl and curled around the book she gave up.

"What's this? Are you studying it?" he smirked as he pulled it out of her grasp and looked down at it.

His eyes widened minutely and he looked at her sharply, "Where did you get this?" he asked and she gulped.

"I…" she sputtered.

"You surely did not buy it." He raised a single eyebrow and smirked, "Did you steal it? I didn't know I left such a mark on you. After all, we have only met five times-…"

"Six." She quickly corrected and he actually chuckled.

"Apologies." He placed his cane under his armpit and started flipping through the pages, "You never answered me." He looked up at her and he sweetened his expression on purpose before he reached up to trail his fingers down her cheek, "You can tell me." He murmured and she took a deep breath.

"Mrs. Barry gave it to me. This morning."

Suddenly he slammed the manuscript shut and swiftly turned on his heel. Chantal frowned when he headed for the stage and when she didn't follow he groaned.

"Do you need a special invitation? Bring the light." He clanked his walking stick against one of the lanterns that hang from the wall before he disappeared into the darkness.

Chantal blinked rapidly at his abrupt change of mood but did as she was told. She picked the lantern and trailed after him. She brought the light forward and spotted him standing near the front seats, his gaze upon the darkened stage.

"My Lord?" she called as she started approaching him.

"Hand me the light." He outstretched his hand after he had deposited his cane on a seat and Chantal handed him the lantern before she clasped her hands in front of her.

"Get on the stage." He ordered before he placed the light at the edge of the uplifted stage and turned to look at her.

"Why?" she blurted out and he tapped his foot.

"Do it. Then we shall talk." He replied shortly before he motioned towards the stage.

"I never said I'd accept your offer, my Lord." She said as she grudgingly headed for the stage. She felt his eyes burning holes on her back as she walked but she tried not to cower. Why did he intimidate her for God's sake? He had no power over her, right?

"You already have, Ms. Paige." His voice was firm, resolute, seductive…_arrogant_. She wanted to grimace because after their last meeting she wasn't sure she could spend more than a few minutes in his presence.

In silence, she walked up and before she had the chance to turn and face him she heard his voice.

"Don't turn." He called and she heard him sitting down, "Stay still. Good… See, Ms. Paige? You can obey me and dare I say you crave to do so." She could hear the smirk in his voice and she rolled her eyes.

"You are so very sure of yourself, my Lord. Perhaps that is the reason for all your misfortunes." She informed him with a scowl.

"And what about _your_ misfortunes, Ms. Paige? So proud and arrogant that you don't even lower your pride to beg for a role. A little sweet talking never hurt anyone." She could hear him flipping through the pages of his work.

"I am an employed actress at the London stage. I _shouldn't_ have to beg for a role." She suddenly whirled around to face him without his permission, "I shouldn't have to rely on your charity either."

The Earl looked up at her and his mouth twitched, "If you relied on my charity, then you wouldn't be talking right now, Ms. Paige. You'd be between my thighs, trying to make up for your lack of talent with your lovely mouth." He pointed out and she flushed, "But alas, there's no need for that…yet." He grinned and waved his hand at her, 'Remove your shawl."

She dropped it because if she talked she'd surely make a mess of things.

"Excellent. Now…Stop that." He called sharply when she started fidgeting, "Ms. Paige, are you suffering from spasms?" his voice was sarcastic and she frowned.

"No…"

"Then why are you shaking? Desist." He clanked his walking stick loudly and she forced her limbs to stay put, "Good. Now, ignore that I am here and deliver something." He waved his hand around almost carelessly.

"Like what?"

"Anything. Your favorite monologue… If you have one that is."

"You shall answer a question for me first." She narrowed her eyes and he smirked.

"I shall endeavor to try." He inclined his head and she bit her lip.

"Why do you wish to help me? I want the truth."

"I think I have answered that question already." He replied curtly, dismissively.

"Yes, but despite my reputation for being meek, I am also known for not being stupid, my Lord. Perhaps, I would help you tell the truth if I told you that someone saw me entering your coach last week." She cocked an eyebrow and that caught his attention.

"Who is the person you're speaking of?" he asked her quietly.

"Mrs. Barry. To tell you the truth, my Lord, since she told me I've been experiencing waves of regret for ever stepping into your home." She crossed her arms over her chest and abruptly he stood up. He walked up to the stage and came to stand behind her.

"Afraid you'll catch the pox, Ms. Paige?" he breathed into her ear and she snorted.

"As far as I can see I mustn't fear that prospect." She turned her face and his nose brushed up against her cheek, "I am afraid that I fear Mrs. Barry's wrath more than your own reputation." She whispered before she turned to gaze ahead.

"I am impressed." His hands came to cradle her shoulders and his thumbs rubbed back and forth over the exposed skin of her back, "But disappointed." He pulled his hands down her shoulders before he stepped back.

"Disappointed?" she asked as he came around to face her.

"Indeed. For you see, I bring word from the stage director of _The Tempest_." He slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a letter, "It's addressed to you, madam." He outstretched his hand towards her and Chantal eyed it with depredation.

"What does it say?"

"I am curious myself." He smirked and her fingers twitched before she finally took it from his hand.

Chantal opened it and read through the lines quickly before she looked up at the Earl.

"Impossible." She breathed.

He started pacing around the stage and cocked an eyebrow, "Is it?"

"You made him do this." She accused and he regarded her with amusement.

"What if I did?" he challenged.

"You said I am not a charity case."

"So you aren't."

"And yet, you use your influence for my profit." She followed his form with her eyes.

"Then we are both satisfied."

"Does she know?"

He rolled his eyes, "And I should care why? To tell you the truth, Chantal…May I call you that?" he asked but before she could answer he continued, "Thank you, madam. To tell you the truth, Chantal, my word counts. So, when the infamous Earl of Rochester informs Mr. Betterton that Mrs. Barry's star no longer shines he starts to think it over. He starts to doubt. And so, once the doubt is rooted in a greedy man's mind the road for change opens. Are you following me, madam?" he asked as he approached her and absently curled a lock of her hair around an ink stained finger.

"I am trying, my Lord." She snapped, "But I fear you are not aware of the consequences."

"Consequences?" he murmured, seemingly fascinated with her hair.

"Indeed. I am the one who shall endure the wrath of a woman who will be suddenly knocked off her throne. I am not ready to be what you wish me to be." She shook her head.

"What I want you to be? And what concept of my desires do you have, madam? What do I want?" he asked her quietly as he released her strand only to start fumbling with a new lock.

Chantal moved back from his reach and he grinned crookedly, "You want to make me your new pet project. And I know why you want me to star on _The Tempest_."

"Is that so? Pet project?" he started pacing around her again, "Why, madam, you make it sound _dirty_." He said huskily and she reached up to rub her temples.

"With you it can only be so, my Lord."

"Tsk, tsk. My dear, if I were interested in just your charms you'd already be up against the wall. But sadly, my quest is deeper than that. Are we clear?" he murmured and she gritted her teeth.

"Sadly no. The way I see it _The Tempest_ is due in three months. That's not enough time for me to meet your unbearable high expectations." She said with irk and he smirked.

"My expectations can only be mediocre when you have so little faith in yourself, madam. But rest assured for I am not easily defeated. You shall exceed everyone's expectations in less than two months." He walked away and placed his hands behind his back.

"You said I have no talent."

"Madam, why would I bother with you if that was the case? I merely stated, if I recall correctly, that you should stop hiding. I never said anything about your potential. Now," he got off the stage and reached for his cane, "We have a lot of work to do so," he looked up at her as he picked up his manuscript and regarded it for a moment before he threw it towards her feet. It landed on her toes and she frowned, "It's yours. Perhaps you will find it useful." He informed her and she leaned down to pick it up.

"Don't you feel anger that she gave it away?" Chantal asked quietly and the Earl smoothed down his coat before he answered.

"Madam, that'd be the case if I possessed a heart."

She looked at him with wide eyes, "Everyone has a heart."

"Unfortunately, I only find it useful in its practical sense. It keeps me alive." He leaned against his walking stick and eyed her coolly, "Now, I want you to write me a two thousand word essay on the characters of _The Tempest_. Then a three thousand word essay on Shakespeare's themes and personalities."

Chantal gaped at him, "What for?" she exclaimed and he cocked an eyebrow.

"You can write, yes, madam?" he drawled and she blinked.

"Of course!"

"Don't snap at me. The way you asked told me that you were ignorant." He muttered and her fingers tightened around the manuscript.

"My Lord, I have no time."

"Find time. Oh, and you have a day to gather your things." He informed her before he started walking towards the exit.

"What?" she blurted out.

He paused and craned his neck to relieve some of the tension before he replied, "You shall move to Woodstock. I find it terribly impractical to work here so late." He turned to look at her from over his shoulder and his profile, which was illuminated by the dim light, showed that he had a half smirk on his lips.

"That's…preposterous!"

"Indeed, a scandal." He turned a bit towards her, "If I chose to speak of it. Have no worries, Ms. Paige. Your honor," his eyes swept her form and she flushed, "Will remain intact…if you so wish it. But I have my own business to take care of and I cannot handle any unnecessary trips to London right now."

"My Lord, are you even listening to yourself? What am I to say to my family?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

The Earl winced and massaged his earlobe, "Are you talking or mewing, madam? I cannot tell the difference between you and a cat in heat. Now, I am sure your family would welcome the extra money, yes? Find something to tell them, it is not my concern." He waved a hand dismissively.

"And you shall always be this rude to me, sir? As you might have gathered, I am a very proud person." She took a step closer.

He stared at her blankly, "Then I have met my match. I assure you, I am rather merry company when I find the other person agreeable. So far, you have only been stubborn and whiney. I take it you will find your way to Woodstock? We wouldn't want people to talk, yes?" he called with a smirk before he walked away, chuckling quietly to himself.

Chantal remained rooted in the spot, staring at his retreating form until all she could hear were his footsteps.

The man meant business; serious business.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Two days later…_

"Master said this is to be your room. Leave your things until he's dressed."

The servant who led her to her bedchamber was less than adequate. Good Lord. He looked as if he had just woken up.

Chantal felt upset. Why on earth had she agreed to do this?

"Thank you…Dressed, you say?"

"Aye, me Lord was sleeping when you banged on the door." He stated dryly.

"Oh. Um, I don't remember your name…" she ventured politely and he grinned as he eyed her carefully.

"Alcock, Ms. Paige. It is Ms. Paige, right?"

"Yes…Alcock." She murmured before she cleared her throat, "You can call me Chantal."

"I surely will. What do you do again?"

"Alcock!" the Earl's voice barked from the long hall and the servant jumped.

"Me Lord?"

"Leave her be. Ms. Paige, join me for breakfast. Bring your essay."

Lord Rochester was clad in his robe and Chantal gave a small bow but as she did so she saw out of the corner of her eye that a woman with dark red hair ran for the stairs.

Chantal flushed but the Earl had already turned away.

"Essay?" Alcock echoed and Chantal did as she was told. When she stepped out of her chamber she noticed that the Earl was conversing with the redhead at the top of the stairs. She was looking at him wide eyed and he was twirling a lock of her auburn hair around his finger as he spoke to her quietly. A few seconds later he gave the redhead a firm kiss and sent her on her way before he turned to face Alcock.

"Alcock, direct her to the dining room." Lord Rochester eyed his servant who nodded and motioned for Chantal to follow him.

She trailed behind him and when she arrived at the table she sat down and placed her work in front of her.

She took her time to gaze at the large room and she smiled when she noticed that the walls were painted. Various landscapes were artistically drawn upon the large walls and she was mesmerized. One in particular gasped her attention and she stood up to look at it better.

"The Fall of Man." The Earl's voice broke through the silence and Chantal whirled around to face him with wide eyes.

"The depiction is the exact replica of Michelangelo's work in the Sistine Chapel. Have you heard of it?"

"No…I mean I have heard of the Sistine Chapel." She shook her head quickly and he smirked.

"Do you like it?" he asked as he came to stand next to her with his hands crossed over his chest. His robe was brushing her arm as they stood side by side.

"It's…fascinating."

"And a real mirror of man's true nature, no? Imagine what opulence we could have shared if these two hadn't destroyed it for us. It makes you want to curse the mankind, yes?" he smirked and eyed the painting with distaste, "Men. Unnecessary things." He muttered and Chantal turned to look at him before she let out a small snort.

His eyes, sharp and unfathomable, turned to look at her, "Are my musings amusing to you, madam?"

"No." she shook her head as she covered her mouth with her hand and looked at him sideways, "It's just…" she chuckled and reached forward, "Your young companion has left a mark." She held her hand a breath away from the corner of his mouth, "May I?"

He slapped her hand away sharply and wiped at his mouth with his hand, "Infernal things." He rubbed his mouth and the bright red paint disappeared.

Chantal stopped laughing, "Women, my Lord." She replied and he scowled.

"Indeed. Sit." He ordered as he headed for the table. He plopped down and instead of reaching for the cup of tea he reached for her essay.

Chantal sat down next to him and nervously took a sip of the tea while his eyes perused the parchment.

"I suppose you found an excuse for your family, yes?"

"Not really."

The Earl's head shot up at that, "I beg your pardon?" he sneered.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I couldn't come up with anything believable. Nothing better than the truth. But do not fear. My sister won't say a word." She smiled confidently and took another sip.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "I see you're at ease already. If I were you I wouldn't be." He put the paper down and leaned towards her, "I am not easily satisfied, you see." he drawled and she looked him in the eye.

"So I hear, my Lord." She nodded and he cocked an eyebrow before he went back to reading her essay.

Two minutes passed and the ripping of paper rang in the silence, causing Chantal to gasp.

Her work, the essay that had taken her all night to complete, became nothing but pieces in his hands. He threw it on the table between them and calmly leaned back.

"What was wrong with it?" she asked angrily and he placed his palms on the arms of the chair.

"Can you understand simple orders, madam?" he asked her coolly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that instead of doing an analysis of _The Tempest's_ characters, you made me spent two minutes of my life so that I can read the plot's synopsis. What concept of the word analysis is alien to you?"

"But-…"

"I want characterization, Ms. Paige. If I wanted to read the play I'd do it without having to make out your handwriting, which if you forgive the comment, is as unintelligible as my daughter's." he flicked away a piece of the torn parchment and eyed her calmly while she sputtered like a fish.

Eventfully, she calmed down and bit her tongue hard, "Very well. What does your Lordship want me to do?" she asked as politely as she could.

He eyed her for a moment before he stood and looked down his nose at her, "Do it again. But this time add another thousand words. You have a day. I shall see you in the drawing room later this evening. Ms. Paige." He inclined his head at her before he turned on his heel and started walking to the door.

"Welcome to Woodstock, Ms. Paige. Alcock will give you a tour." He called before he disappeared from her sight.

Chantal gritted her teeth and banged her head against the expensive dinner table. It had begun.

**End of chapter 4**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading, Please review before you go. I need your feedback! Liked it? Hated it? Let me know.**

***_Merely for safety after fame they thirst, for all men would be cowards if they durst._ This is a part of Wilmot's work _A satire Against Mankind_. Just so you know I didn't make that up. :D**

**Visit my Facebook page for news and info.**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina :o)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Welcome back! A huge thank you to: CharlieCats, dionne dance, nuckythompson, UnicornTamer, ForeverACharmedOne, XantheXV, MissMisc3, Leyshla Gisel and TinkerbellxO. Thank you all for your comments.**

**A big and loud shout out to **_**Dionne Dance**_** for mentioning the importance of Chantal's name. You are a moving encyclopedia, dear. Thanks for the information you have so generously provided us with! ;o)**

**Also, I have to beg of you that if you do comment, then please be helpful in what has to do with the aspects of my plot, characters and development. Commenting on a character's name is rather immature. Thank you in advance.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

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**Chapter 5**

'_**An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.'**_

_**~Ernest Hemingway**_

Chantal was not being nosy on purpose…Not really. But when you woke up early in the morning to the sounds of a baby crying…You had to wonder if something was wrong.

So, there she was, walking through Woodstock manor with the clear intention of finding out the source of the crying. During her short stay at the manor she had noticed that the wet-nurse hardly ever left the child alone. She was always near the baby and she had never heard little Beth crying so heart-wrenchingly before.

She made her way down the long hall and as she passed by the Earl's chamber she paused. Was he inside? Was he out for the day? Or rather, night? She didn't want to barge in so she just kept walking.

The loud crying took her to the parlor and when she stepped in she noticed that the baby was in the wet-nurse's arms. Frowning, she took a few steps closer.

"What is the matter?" she asked and the young woman turned to her with wide, panicky eyes. She gave a small bow before she spoke in a rush.

"I do not know, madam. I have tried everything. I have changed her, bathed her, fed her…But she won't stop." The woman said and Chantal took a few steps closer.

"May I?" she outstretched her arms and the wet-nurse hesitated.

"Madam, the Earl ordered me not to bother you with the child." She whispered and Chantal frowned.

"I am not bothered." She kept her arms outstretched.

"Madam, I will get into trouble."

"Are you getting paid for this, Nellie?" she asked and the wet-nurse flushed.

"My family is very poor, madam. Taking care of this child is putting food on our table." She replied and Chantal nodded.

"Surely you are compensated with money then. So, Lord Rochester would be angry if he heard his daughter crying her heart out while you are here." Chantal smiled when the girl's eyes widened.

"Not money, madam. The Earl provides food." She timidly handed Beth to Chantal.

As Chantal took the child she started rocking it before she frowned, "Food, you say?" she murmured and Nellie nodded eagerly.

"Yes, madam. You see," she leaned closer, "The Earl is not so perfectly disposed to pay with money. It's not my place but if you're here seeking for lavish gifts from him-…"

"I beg your pardon?" Chantal raised her voice and Nellie clamped her mouth shut, "My business is my own." Chantal put the baby's head on her shoulder and gently rubbed her back, "Please, refrain from speaking about your master in such a way. He wouldn't appreciate it."

"I wouldn't appreciate what?" Lord Rochester's voice thundered from behind them and both women turned to look at him.

The wet-nurse looked positively embarrassed, while Chantal seriously ruffled.

"My Lord." Chantal gave a small bow and he winced at the loud cries of the child.

"What on earth is happening?" his eyes settled on Nellie, "Why is she crying?" he asked her and the woman sputtered.

"I have no idea, your Lordship. She-…"

"Didn't I give specific instructions that you should not bother our guest with Beth? How more plainly must I speak? Surely you understand a few English despite only using them in order to spread vicious rumors." He hissed angrily and Chantal cocked an eyebrow at his tone.

Truth was that the woman had been ready to blurt everything like a songbird. But they were in the country; gossip was to be expected.

"My Lord, I didn't-…"

"Ms. Paige, hand me my daughter." The Earl cut the wet-nurse off and Chantal passed the child to him.

He patted her back gently and when she burped his glare came and settled on Nellie who was ready to defend herself.

"I had already done that-…"

"Go and warm water. The child obviously has colic." He brushed his palm gently over the baby's belly, "If you had been watching her closely enough you might have noticed the swelling. How many children have you mothered, lass?" he asked her with narrowed eyes.

"One, your Lordship-…"

"Then what made my mother think you to be adequate to nurse my child?" he asked her with a sneer and Chantal flushed on behalf of Nellie.

The wet-nurse sputtered, but before she could reply he clicked his tongue and waved her away.

"Go and bathe her. The crying will stop once she has been relieved." He said crisply and Nellie took the child from him and fled the room with her head lowered.

Chantal took her time to study the Earl's appearance. He looked…terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, tangled and messy hair, loosened shirt and wrinkled breeches, but above all he reeked of wine.

"Ms. Paige." His voice caused her eyes to snap up to his face, "You see anything of interest, madam?" he cocked a single brown eyebrow and she quickly shook her head.

"Forgive my blatant staring, my Lord, but…" she trailed off, wondering if she should be honest or not.

"Yes?" he was waiting for her to finish her sentence.

"You look awful." She blurted out at last and he smirked. That surprised her.

"Indeed." He was bloody amused, "Pray, what have you been up to since yesterday, madam? I did not spot you in the drawing room at all. Were you hiding?" he asked her and she smiled a bit.

"Hardly, your Lordship." And with that she slipped her hand into the deep pocket of her skirt and pulled out a parchment, "I've been working on the task you assigned me." She outstretched her hand towards him and he took his time to eye it before he slowly, as if doing it on purpose, took it from her hand.

"Is that so? And why did you take such extreme measures in carrying it on you, Ms. Paige?" He placed the parchment against the tip of his nose and inhaled, "By God, it speaks of your skin." He smirked crookedly and she flushed.

"I thought that if you saw it you'd tear it before even reading it, my Lord. Took me all night and half a day to finish it…For the second time, I mean." She added and he regarded her intently without speaking.

"Was that the reason for the storm I heard raging in your chamber? Was that your mind which while creating this work had me up all night?" he cocked an eyebrow and she mirrored his expression.

"Either that or the loud squealing of your companion, my Lord. I had half the mind to come and see what was causing her to make such a fuss." She replied bitingly and his eyes lit up with glee.

"Madam," he took a step closer so he was breathing right against her cheek, "Your presence would have been surprising but rather welcomed." He breathed and she blinked as the blush spread from her neck to her face, "Why, you can excite a man merely by looking at him." He walked around her once and when he saw her tensing up he chuckled and stepped away.

"Be ready in two hours. We shall go to London." He called and she blinked out of her embarrassed state.

"Beg pardon?"

"You heard me, Ms. Paige."

"My Lord." He paused at the threshold.

"Madam." He turned to look at her from over his shoulder.

"I have been wondering how I shall go to work-…"

"You shall not." He cut her off.

Chantal's eyes widened, "I don't understand."

With a roll of his eyes he turned and stormed right back to her, his fingers tightly curled around her essay.

"Ms. Paige, I thought you were intelligent." He remarked and she narrowed her eyes.

"It's not my fault that your presence makes me feel like a fool." She fired back and he narrowed his eyes.

"I take that as a compliment." He pursed his lips in what seemed like amusement.

"Why, I only meant it as such. You are after all my tutor. I always respect my elders." She crossed her arms over her chest and his gaze was immediately drawn to her cleavage.

"Why, Ms. Paige…You might cause me _excitement_ with that attitude." He drawled without taking his eyes off of her skin.

Chantal gritted her teeth, "I can only hope I won't." she said as she took a step back.

He looked up at her, "Careful, _Chantal_." He started as he leaned closer, "You should pray instead of hope. You wouldn't want to be in the receiving end of my appetites. Trust the word of an _elder_." He murmured and she gulped before she dropped her arms from her chest.

"My Lord." She muttered and he smirked.

"Chantal." The name rolled of his lips like a caress before he started pacing, "Do you know what it means?"

She frowned, "Do I know what it means?"

"Your name." he clarified impatiently.

She hesitated, "No." she shook her head and he clicked his tongue.

"It's for royalty." He told her as he circled her once and then came to stand in front of her, "It means stone." He smirked, "So far you haven't made it justice."

"Meaning?" she stiffened at his words.

"You're not persistent, madam. In these harsh times and at the profession you have chosen you must be insistent." His eyes roamed her form, "You must be charming for you have all that it takes." He came to stand by her side and raised his hand to her hair. He fingered a curly lock and she looked at him sideways, "You must employ every tool in your possession. Smiles," he moved behind her and swept her hair off her shoulder, "Tilts of the head," he moved to her other side, "A casual flick of the hair," he came to stand in front of her, "A gaze." He grinned, "A lick of your lips. Every action, every gesture must have the purpose of charming your victim. How do you think all our great actresses have climbed the ladder of fame in our society?" he sneered, "By their talent alone? Don't make me laugh." He drawled dryly, "Deception, madam, is the truest way to make the mightiest man fall to your feet." He finished and he stepped back from her.

Chantal swallowed thickly, "Does that rule apply to you, my Lord?"

He tapped the parchment against his chin in deep thought, "And you're interested why?" he asked and she didn't know why she had asked that.

"I am curious." She said at last.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Ms. Paige."

"I am not a cat." She fired back with irk and he chuckled.

"Indeed. I shall endeavor to make you a tiger."

She cleared her throat, "That is not something you learn. It's something you're born with."

"We shall see." he told her eyes as he eyed her with his head tilted to the side.

"You never gave me a clear answer."

"About what?"

"About my not going back to my work."

"Ms. Paige, you were given the leading female role in _The Tempest_. Why on earth would you go back and play Mrs. Barry's servant? We have much better things to do with our time. Now, choose the best dress you possess and be ready in two hours." He regarded her intently for a while before he turned to go.

"May I at least know where we are going?" she asked just before he disappeared.

"Covent Garden." And with those words he was gone.

Chantal sighed and looked outside. Great. It was just about to start pouring down too.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Ms. Paige. Come here." Lord Rochester spoke up suddenly.

Chantal looked at him from her opposite seat in the carriage and frowned, "My Lord?"

He patted his knee, "Come kneel between my thighs for a moment." He chose the words on purpose and she sputtered.

"I beg your pardon?" she almost screeched and he started laughing.

"Madam, your mind is exceedingly dirty. I wouldn't want to ruin your make up." His eyes were narrowed at the corners, "Although you hardly need it." He added and the comment took her by surprise, "Now please, come here."

Chantal bit the inside of her cheek and did as he bid her. Once she was close his hands immediately went to her hair. She frowned but when he started pulling out the pins she had so strategically put in to keep her hair up she yelped.

"What on earth-…"

"Madam, you look like my mother. And that, unlike my other comment, is not a compliment." He tugged all the pins out and her hair fell over her back and shoulders in thick waves. She wanted to scream for her hair was not easy to tame.

"Better." He carelessly threw her pins outside the carriage door and she gasped.

"Did you have to do that?" she asked with a glare.

"I did. How else would I see that vicious glimmer in your eye? Settle down now." He brought his walking stick between his legs and cupped his hands over the handle before he looked outside of the coach's window. It was still raining heavily.

As they fell into a long silence, Chantal let her eyes roam his form. His clothes were immaculate but she could see that they were a bit worn out at the sleeves and hems. She started wondering if the wet-nurse was right. Perhaps he could not afford paying her in money. Truth be told, Woodstock Manor was opulent but its household wasn't. No expensive food or drink. Just base meals…Hardly any meat. She blinked when she realized that despite his title the Earl of Rochester was poor. No wonder Elizabeth Barry left him for wealthier and more powerful men. It was sad really.

As he gazed outside, he kept twirling his walking stick between his fingers and from time to time he could sheathe and unsheathe the hidden sword inside the long cane.

Chantal cleared her throat, "My Lord, we are going to the playhouse?" she asked when she noticed his wig.

"Indeed." He replied without looking at her.

"We won't be welcomed there by-…"

"Fear not for Mrs. Barry's wrath, Ms. Paige. We are going to Covent Garden to see Mrs. Gwyn. She is far more welcoming than the leading actress at the Duke's Theatre." He smirked and her eyes widened.

"Oh my…Do you mean Mrs. Nell Gwyn? _The_ Nell Gwyn?" she gasped and he turned to look at her.

"I do. Have you seen her act?" he asked as he gazed at her intently.

"Once, my Lord." Chantal admitted with a bit of shame.

"Disgraceful, Ms. Paige. Nevertheless, it's good that you have seen her at least once. Pray, what play did you see?" he asked her with interest.

Chantal thought hard and then she nodded, "I saw her as Cybaria in Mr. Dryden's play, my Lord." She replied quietly and he grimaced.

"_The Indian Emperor_. Not her best performance." He said dryly.

"Comedy suits her better." Chantal said softly.

"Indeed. The Theatre Royal is housing Dryden's _The Maiden Queen_." He informed her and she smiled.

"Oh."

"Indeed." He smirked as he leaned back in his seat and looked at her carefully, "What is your knowledge of Mrs. Gwyn's conduct with the King?" he quirked an eyebrow and she flushed.

"Yes, um…She is one of his mistresses." She replied with a small shrug, "Not surprising because she is so beautiful, my Lord." She murmured.

"She is…Incredibly witty too. Rare trait when she is in our King's company…"

"My Lord!" she gasped and he smirked.

"I am known for speaking the truth, Ms. Paige. No matter how much that hurts." He told her bluntly.

"I am aware of that." She nodded, "I fear it is the reason for your constant arguing with our monarch."

"Thank God the only reason is my impropriety." He let a slow smile stretch upon his lips and she was staggered when it changed his entire face. Flushing, she bit her lip and averted her gaze.

He chuckled, but remained silent for the rest of the ride.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Theatre Royal, Drury Lane_

"My Lord Rochester!"

A male voice rang among the loud voices and Chantal turned to look behind her.

"My Lord." She grasped the Earl's sleeve, "Mr. Killegrew is calling for you." She whispered in awe and he paused with a roll of his eyes.

He set his jaw, straightened his shoulders and leaned towards her, "Ms. Paige, whatever I say, play along."

"What?" she gasped and he grasped her hand and firmly tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

"Ms. Paige, you're an actress. So, just play along." He hissed before he whirled around with a fake smile plastered upon his lips.

"Master Thomas." He gave a small incline of his head, "What a pleasure." He drawled.

"Likewise, my Lord. We haven't seen you in a while. Are you back to Woodstock?" Thomas Killegrew smiled and then surreptitiously shot a glance at Chantal whose hand tightened on the Earl's forearm.

"Indeed. We require two seats."

"The best in the theatre for you, my Lord. Pray, who is this young lady?"

Rochester smirked gleefully, "So glad you noticed, Master Thomas. This is my beloved new protégée, who just happens to be a very talented and aspiring actress. The King himself has pointed her out to me and I have to say that I am delighted to tutor such a charming creature. Wouldn't you agree?" he replied smoothly, his voice like molten honey and even Chantal was impressed. What was he doing? Protégée? That had a lot of definitions and hidden meanings. Her throat went dry.

"Oh? Pray what is her name?" Mr. Killegrew asked as his eyes took her in.

"Chantal Paige, Master Thomas. Until recently she was under Mrs. Barry's tutelage." The Earl replied smartly and the playhouse manager seemed awestruck by the new information.

"Paige...I have heard of her…Isn't she going to star in Duke's upcoming production?" he pointed a greedy finger at Chantal and Rochester nodded.

"Indeed, Master Thomas."

"Splendid…splendid."

The Earl's mouth twitched as the older man eyed Chantal with interest but he had to intervene, "Our seats, Master Thomas?" he cocked an eyebrow as he gently picked up Chantal's hand and brought it to his lips.

Her eyes widened but she covered her shock with a small nervous chuckle. Why was he kissing her hand in front of all those people? His lips were almost unnervingly hot against her skin and… And oh God! Did he just…lap at her hand with his tongue?

She cleared her throat as the Earl made a show of gently placing her hand in his and then putting it again his chest.

"Come, come." Killegrew exclaimed and the Earl followed him with a satisfied grin upon his face.

Chantal was lost.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal tried to keep her mouth shut after they had taken their seats but the way he was smirking to himself was too irritating for her.

"My Lord?" she spoke quietly, but even if she had spoken in a louder voice no one would have noticed. So far they were alone in their box.

"Ms. Paige?" he replied without turning to look at her.

"What happened? Just now?" she leaned closely and he turned to look at her intently, before he roughly grasped her seat and propelled her closer to him by pulling it next to him.

"Once again, I doubt the intelligence that makes you feel proud." He drawled and she gulped as the locks of his wig brushed against her cheek as he spoke.

"I know that you wanted people to notice me but calling me your…protégée? That is going to create a scandal." She hissed.

"Indeed. And what better way to promote your abilities but with a scandal. Especially one that involves me." He smirked evilly.

"I had applied for a job here, my Lord. They rejected me." She said hoarsely and he leaned back in his chair before he reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger. A few gasps resonated in the theatre around them and she flushed while he grinned fully.

"Why did they reject you, madam?" he asked her and she blinked.

"I do not know-…"

"Yes, you do. Why did they reject you?" Each word was enunciated with a gentle, but warning tug on her hair.

She gulped, "They found me lacking."

"Indeed." He grimaced, "Why was that I wonder?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Because I was shy-…"

"_Are_ shy, Ms. Paige. You're incredibly, disgustingly shy. You're so shy to act that it makes me sick." He let go of her hair and slapped his hand against the arm of his seat, "Now, being with me will you give you the great opportunity to show yourself."

"You want to flaunt me." She scowled and he shook his head.

"No, madam. I shall flaunt you when there is something beyond your looks that needs to be brought into wide attention. So far, your charming smile has yet to make its first virgin appearance." He looked her in the eye.

"I do smile!" she snapped with fire and he smirked.

"Not in front of me." He pointed out.

"You give me no reason to. All you do is insulting me." She started standing up but he caught her wrist in a death grip before he hauled her back down on her seat. She gasped as her back collided painfully with the edge of the chair's armrest and she glared at him.

"Madam," he pulled her closer and stared at her studiously, "If I start praising you from now what am I going do when you actually deserve it?" he hissed before he leaned forward and captured her lips in a harsh, but deep kiss. Chantal's eyes widened to the size of saucers and when his tongue did a sensual perusal of her inner lower lip she gasped loudly. He pulled back swiftly and when he noticed her angry glare he smirked.

"My Earl of Dorset approaches. I have to make it look believable. Now, be charming." He let go of her wrist and settled back down as his friend, Charles Sackville made his way into the box and exchanged pleasantries with him.

Chantal wanted to smack him but she knew he'd only enjoy it…Probably.

She tried to be on her best behavior as all the patrons settled down and as the play started she could feel various eyes on her. She squirmed and tried not to feel embarrassed. Most actresses had suitors that helped them climb up the social ladder…So why did she feel cheap standing there? If she behaved by the Bible, she'd never get a part. She'd be forced to live under her sister's charity forever and she hated that. She hated the look in her sister's and her husband's eyes every time she was in need of money. She had to keep her mouth shut and follow his instructions and so far he had only succeeded in helping her. The Duke's Company rivaled The King's Company in which Theatre Royal was a part of. That would cause a crisis and if she showed her abilities they'd have to fight each other if they wanted to have her. Nell Gwyn was already getting old by the theatre standards and her relationship with the King did not leave her enough time to act.

When Nell Gwyn stepped onto the stage for _The Maiden Queen_, it was obvious that she was with child. The role demanded her to wear men's clothing and they did nothing to hide her condition.

"Another bastard." Lord Rochester commented as he gazed at the actress, "Of course."

Chantal frowned, "I don't think you're in position to judge, my Lord." She pointed out sourly and even as she swallowed she could still feel him on her lips. Good God, the man was like the plague; he stuck on you and didn't leave.

Lord Sackville actually snickered, "Watch her tongue, Johnny. She's feisty." He commented and the Earl rolled his eyes before he shot a warning glance towards Chantal who simply raised her chin in defiance.

Rochester gritted his teeth and leaned close to her ear, "Pity. I thought you were fond of Beth. Now you're considering her a bastard? Well done, Ms. Paige." He hissed dryly and her cheeks flushed as he settled back down on his seat.

She turned to look at him and she could see that his eyes were narrowed.

She turned away and swallowed thickly. Great. Now she felt bad because Beth hadn't even crossed her mind while she had been commenting on the Earl's offspring.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I'll be at the inn next door, Johnny. Will you come?" Lord Sackville called as they slowly made their way out of their box.

"I need to speak with Mrs. Gwyn. I shall see you later." The Earl winked at his friend and then turned to Chantal, "I need to have a word with Nell. Wait for me at the back door. We shall leave from there. Do not stray." He told her as he eyed her with displeasure, but before he could leave she caught his arm. He looked at it with distaste and she licked her dry lips. She was surprised when he followed the movement with his dark eyes.

"My Lord, forgive me for my earlier comment. I meant no ill-will." She said quietly as people and wenches passed by them while giving them curious looks.

"Of course you didn't, Ms. Paige. You love Beth which I find rather charming, yet at the same time irritating." He informed her calmly as he pulled his arm from her hold.

"Irritating?" Chantal murmured.

He leaned in close to her, "No child of mine needs your charity, madam." He straightened and then motioned towards the long corridor, "Wait for me."

With those words he walked away, leaving her to gape after him with shock.

Once she had recovered from her initial shock, she made her way to the back door and waited there patiently. As she eyed the various patrons who partnered themselves with the theatre girls, she frowned. What did he want to say to Nell Gwyn? She only hoped it didn't have anything to do with her for God only knew what she would have to do next time.

**End of chapter 5**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. Please review! Comments keep me going.**

**Okay, some info (again):**

**Nell Gwyn was an actress and had started out as an orange girl (yes, she actually sold oranges, lemons and other fruit to the theatre goers) in the Theatre Royal at Covent Garden. She then proceeded to become an actress at the age of fourteen. There, she grasped the attention of Lord Sackville and became his mistress. After the Theatre Royal was renovated, she became one of the finest actresses on the London stage and her looks made her quite famous at Court. She became King Charles' II mistress and she had two sons by him.**

**Also, her relationship with John Wilmot was very good and unlike other mistresses the King had, Nell had managed to gain the Earl's trust. **

_**The Maiden Queen**_** is an actual play written by Dryden and the female leading role had to dress up as a man in various scenes…**

**Also, Thomas Killegrew was a real person and manager of Theatre Royal, Drury Lane…**

**Did I forget anything? Eh…I don't think so. Yeah.**

**So, review?**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi, lovelies! Sorry for the delay. I want to thank: ForeverACharmedOne, Little-Annie, Leyshla Gisel, TinkerbellxO, PGAEmma, nuckythompson, guest, dionne dance and MissMisc3. Thank you for the support.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

'_**Kings and Princes are only as incomprehensible as what they pretend to represent, but apparently as frail as those they govern.'**_

_**~Earl of Rochester, from his letters to Henry Savile **_

_Two Weeks later…_

Woodstock manor had a lot of rooms. No, that was an understatement. It had almost too many rooms for Chantal to live comfortably in it. Three floors, two washrooms, a large kitchen area and other rooms that she had yet to venture in. Not to mention the large attic on the third floor and the large cellar below. All in all, it was a house that produced odd sounds during the night while scaring the living daylights out of her. It was a complete antithesis of the little house she had lived in during her childhood.

So, it was not surprising when she decided to abandon the hope of sleep in quest of something to occupy her mind with. She decided to visit the kitchen for a cup of chamomile, but she found none. No surprise there. The Earl's household could not afford such a luxury. She settled for a cool cup of water instead.

The kitchen was cold, too cold for her to walk around in her nightgown and cotton robe. If she didn't know that the master of the house would be too occupied with his drinking and company she wouldn't have dared to wander around in her night clothes. But so far, every time she had ventured out of her room at night she had not seen him.

Abandoning the cup of water, she walked out of the kitchen and headed for the parlor. The fire there had long died out and the large open area was uncomfortably icy. She rubbed her arms and shook her head. She jumped when the wind caused the house to creak and whistle in complaint and decided it was best to head back to the warmth of her heavy bedcovers.

As she passed by the drawing room, she had an idea. She eyed the door with apprehension. Could she do it? No, she couldn't. She shook her head severely and made to move past the temptation, but again she faltered.

Would it be so bad to just look at his work? She had seen him writing avidly while she had been studying for _The Tempest_…So…

He hadn't returned her latest essay and she had spent hours after hours to finish it. That would be amongst his papers, right? She would only just take a peek at that. Nothing more. She would just see what his opinion of it had been. After all, she had the manuscript with most of his work so what would it hurt to just take a glimpse at the rest? Right?

Convincing herself that she was not going to intrude and that she would only search for her own essay, she tiptoed towards the heavy door. She placed her hands upon the golden handle and twisted it downwards until it opened with a small squeak. She winced but put her head through to look inside. She was a bit surprised when she saw that the room was dimly lighted. She frowned a bit, but shrugged and stepped inside. She left the door ajar behind her. Her eyes zeroed on the large oak desk by the window, but then noises halted her approach towards it.

Her eyes widened when she heard the distinctive sound of husky chuckles and small whimpering noises.

She froze. Dear God. He was in there? Damnation!

She suddenly didn't know if she should turn and look at the scene behind her. He was obviously not alone…Was he with a…woman?

Chantal gulped and decided it was better to run than stay and find out. Thanking the vastness of the large room, she started for the door, but something caught her interest a second later.

It was the sound of someone pressing quietly onto the keys of the pianoforte by the French doors.

She froze, but for a different reason altogether this time. Was he playing music to a woman? Certainly not. It was ludicrous…Wasn't it?

When another hoarse chuckle came from him her curiosity increased. Before she had the time to think much on her actions, she whirled around to face the scene she had intruded upon.

What she saw was unexpected and almost surreal. It was not what she had been expecting to see. It was not a scene of seduction on the piano, nor a scene of lascivious amusement. It was the scene of something she had not yet linked the Earl with. It was an image that had the power to alter her opinion of him.

Upon his lap was no lady or wench. In his hands was not a goblet of wine or a quill. Snuggling upon his lap was his illegitimate daughter. Beth was using her father's lap as a stool while he held her secure by having a hand wrapped around her little belly. His free hand was resting idly upon the keys of the pianoforte and he was keenly watching her reaction as he pressed on various chords, smirking every time a note caused her to gurgle happily.

Chantal was lost. She was surprised and strangely enthralled by the scene. She had not realized that the Earl was _actually_ human. His responses were not those of a man with emotions. He was witty, calculative and almost cruel.

She blinked and took a step back, feeling completely out of place and totally foolish for intruding on such a scene.

A wave of sadness washed over her, but she pushed it to the side.

Her hasty escape attempt was ruined when her foot knocked over a low stool by the armchair. The music notes stopped abruptly and when she raised her eyes upwards she came face to face with the Earl's stormy eyes.

_God._

The smirk fell right off his lips at seeing her standing there and his brows furrowed together.

"Ms. Paige." He murmured through slightly gritted teeth.

Chantal blinked and quickly bowed her head, "My Lord." She breathed as her heart thundered against her chest.

He pulled his hand away from the pianoforte and abruptly stood, "What are you doing wandering the grounds so late?" He asked her neutrally, but his eyes betrayed his unsettlement at having been caught with the baby.

Chantal hesitated, "Um…I couldn't sleep." She said quietly and it wasn't a lie.

"You couldn't sleep." He repeated and eyed her up and down, "I see. Well, I suggest you get back to it, because I have arranged a meeting for you tomorrow." His tone was clipped, speaking of his displeasure.

Chantal didn't know if she should apologize or not. She only watched as he lifted the child and placed her rosy cheek against his shoulder. Beth blinked sleepily and grasped a fistful of his long hair.

"Meeting? What kind of meeting?" She asked, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the child.

He staring did not go unnoticed by the Earl, "Mr. Betterton will meet you at the theatre so he can give you the newest version of _The Tempest_. Then, Mrs. Gwyn shall meet you at a tea house." He said flatly, before he added, "Seeing something of interest, madam?" He snapped and she looked up at him.

"M-my Lord?"

"You're staring, _Chantal_." He took a few steps closer and looked down at her with derision that glimmered with specks of amusement, "Perhaps you should reconsider your decision of becoming an actress and focus on acquiring a husband instead. You're making calf eyes at my daughter, madam. I would not advise it."

Chantal tensed, "I beg for your forgiveness if I offended you. It's just…." She trailed off and he quirked an eyebrow.

"By all means, go on."

"Seeing you with her is rather…surprising." She said instead and he scowled.

"That's why I wanted to keep it private, Ms. Paige. Next time you decide to enter this room, knock first." He suggested with hard eyes before he moved past her.

Chantal's eyes narrowed, "My Lord!" she exclaimed as she whirled around to face him.

He paused by the door, his back on her, "Ms. Paige."

"If you think me so low as to be around you, then you must send me back. I really do not see the purpose of this." She said confidently and he turned to look at her, a smirk on his face.

"Tomorrow you shall see it." He pulled the door wide open, but paused again, "Oh and, Ms. Paige?" he called on his way out, "Do not raise your voice at me. I assure you I am not intimidated in the least." He informed her smugly before he disappeared from her sight.

Chantal wanted to scream.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Here you are, Ms. Paige." Mr. Betterton eyed her with interest and she flushed uncomfortably.

"Thank you, sir." She took the manuscript from his hand and cleared her throat.

"The theatre is at your disposal if you want to practice your scenes…But I have already heard that you already have the practice and tutelage you need…" He trailed off and she hated to see the amusement and criticism in his eyes.

Everyone knew where she lived by then. Jesus, the mortification.

"Yes," She cleared her throat, "Lord Rochester has been most accommodating in his hospitality." She said quietly, her gaze wandering around the theatre. Everyone was staring at her.

She quickly averted her eyes and focused on the man in front of her, "I really appreciate his ardor for my success. How are things here, sir?" she asked him and he blinked.

"Things are well, Ms. Paige. Perhaps you can stay to watch the performance?"

"I do not think Mrs. Barry would be positive to the idea-…"

"Mrs. Barry does not rule this establishment, madam. As your newest endeavor has already proved, she doesn't make the decisions. I am sure your _tutor_ is already aware of that. I manage this playhouse and I get to decide who is worthy of the chance they're given or not. Am I clear?" He quirked an eyebrow and Chantal swallowed thickly, but stared back at him with pride nonetheless. He meant to say that he could just as easily fire her if she did not please him.

"Of course, Mr. Betterton. My Lord knows that." She bit her tongue after calling the Earl that word. It sounded like an endearment.

_Stop talking. Now._

She smiled to cover her uneasiness, "I would stay, but I am otherwise engaged, sir." She said and he seemed interested.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I am meeting with Mrs. Gwyn. Nell Gwyn." She said with a wide grin and he seemed shocked.

"Madame Gwyn? Pray, what does she have to say to you?" He asked her as he looked her up and down.

"I am merely striving to learn from her. From what I gather, she's far more open to offer her help to those who need it." Chantal replied and she watched with satisfaction as he paled. Theatre Royal was his enemy and he didn't like it when his actresses found help among its staff.

Lord Rochester was once again proven right.

"I see…Well, send Mrs. Gwyn my regards. I hear that she's already plump with child." He grinned and Chantal smiled.

"Indeed. I am sure the new Opera piece will be just as engaging as Mr. Dryden's play." She wanted to applaud Rochester's well practiced words. Betterton's reactions were all just as he had described to her earlier that morning. The man was a rake, but he was a clever one.

"Opera, you say?" He murmured and she nodded eagerly.

"Indeed. During the weekends, Theatre Royal will offer new entertainment to the public. God knows our tormented town needs the change." Chantal said with a sigh, "Oh well. I must be going, sir. I will be sure to inform you of my progress. Good day." She bowed her head and then brushed past him, leaving him gaping like a fish with his face on fire.

She wanted to chuckle, but her amusement was cut short when she almost collided with Elizabeth Barry. She inhaled sharply, but stopped walking when the other actress blocked her way.

"Ms. Paige." She said as she eyed her sharply.

"Mrs. Barry." Chantal inclined her head and tightened her hands upon the manuscript in her grasp.

"How wonderful to finally grace us with your presence. Have you finally returned to your work?" Barry asked and Chantal pursed her lips.

"Indeed." She raised _The Tempest_ and held it against her chest, cover out so the other woman could see it.

Elizabeth looked at it for a long time, her expression cool like always, but her eyes spoke of a different story.

"I see. I heard of your visit at Theatre Royal. How was it to actually be among advantageous people? Alluring, I would think." She said quietly, her demeanor as cold as ice.

"Indeed it was." Chantal murmured, "Now I know the feeling, madam."

"Indeed. How is your tutoring going? Are you able to endure your image on a mirror now?" Barry asked with a small smile.

Chantal smiled, "Unlike most women, I do not have that narcissistic flare in me, madam."

"You fear what you shall see in it?" She asked as she clasped her hands in front of her stomach.

"No, madam. I fear that I'll finally see what has always been there." Chantal replied and Barry's lips thinned.

"Your self-esteem is rather high, Ms. Paige. I wouldn't keep my gaze too far off the ground. You might fall…" She murmured and Chantal nodded.

"I shall keep that in mind, madam." She made to sidestep her, but she was once again stopped.

"His attentions must be rather stimulating if this is your reaction at simply being offered my leftovers. Do not trust him that much Ms. Paige. You might be surprised by his ulterior motive." Elizabeth hissed and Chantal almost rolled her eyes.

"Mrs. Barry, I already know his ulterior motive." She said quietly and Barry's eyes narrowed.

"Enlighten me."

"I think I shall not."

"Or you're too much of a coward to admit that the only reason he is tutoring you is to take his revenge upon me. Kindly inform him that his existence does not bother me. You shall fail him, Ms. Paige. And I will smile at his failure, because he has already made it personal." She stepped back and Chantal blinked, the woman's words ringing in her ears and making her angry.

"I do not fear failure, Mrs. Barry. If I fail, I fail. And to be completely honest, since you've already dropped the façade of politeness, I do not care of his motives as long as they work to my favor. I suppose we are similar in that aspect. Good day." Chantal hadn't taken a few steps forward until she was called back. She paused and turned around again.

"I admire your quick tongue. An improvement from the mousy girl I knew." She thrust a hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a letter, "I'd be very much obliged if you passed this to him."

Chantal eyed the letter and then looked at the woman's face, "What is it?"

Barry cocked an eyebrow, "A request." With those words she turned and walked away. Chantal wasn't surprised when she realized that Betterton had been watching them the entire time.

Breathing in deeply, she turned and walked out of the playhouse. She felt oddly out of place, and regretful of her confident words.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Nell Gwyn raised the teacup to her lips and eyed Chantal with calculating eyes. Then, with a look of amusement she gazed at her other companion.

"Anne, I think the young lady needs a lesson or two on how to pose. Care to enlighten her?" Mrs. Gwyn said in her melodious voice and Chantal paused with the biscuit half-way to her mouth.

The redhead with the bright green eyes smiled and chuckled, "Heavens, you're scaring the poor girl." Ms. Gardor said with amusement and Chantal blinked, "Ms. Paige, my friend is simply referring to your…hunching tendency. Sit up straight, if you please." Her voice was eerie and high pitched, but not in an unpleasant way.

Chantal complied and the two women smiled, "Perfect." Anne said quietly.

Nell Gwyn cocked her head to the side, "How do you find your tea?" She asked and Chantal flushed.

"Very good, madam. Thank you for the invitation." She replied gently. The difference between Nell Gwyn and Lizzie Barry was so grand that it was almost blinding. Whereas Barry was cold and reserved, Gwyn was warm and captivating to look at. Her companion was also accommodating, albeit a bit too breezy for Chantal's tastes. There were various things hiding under Anne Gardor's intense gaze.

"Anything for our dear Lord Rochester, Ms. Paige." Gwyn replied and at the mention of the Earl's name Ms. Gardor perked up.

"Yes, his reputation is rather…enthralling." Anne said as she took a sip of her drink.

Chantal frowned while Mrs. Gwyn blinked, "Oh yes. You have not met him. Thus, the praising words."

"I did not praise, Nell." Ms. Gardor replied and Chantal's frown deepened at the woman's smirk.

"Never mind her," Nell waved her hand around, "She is easily seduced."

"I fear it's the other way around." Anne Maureen Gardor replied with a grin and Chantal cleared her throat.

"I heard you shall perform at Theatre Royal, Ms. Gardor." She had to change the subject. She didn't like where the conversation was heading.

"Indeed, Ms. Paige." Ms. Gardor smiled at her and she felt encouraged to ask more.

"May I ask which opera you shall perform?" she asked.

"_Venus and Adonis_, Ms. Paige. It's written to honor our King. Are you familiar with it?" she asked and Chantal shook her head, "Yes, well, it is rather new." Ms. Gardor smiled widely, eyes glimmering and Chantal felt like a fly in her way. The woman was blinding.

"I see. Quite interesting."

"Yes, yes. We are enthralled by the new project, but I have a few questions. You don't mind, do you?" Nell Gwyn asked and Chantal shook her head.

"Excellent. Lord Rochester informed me of your endearing compliance. It's a rare trait in our world. Women are too easily misled by fame. So, what is your favorite tragedy, Ms. Paige?" Nell asked her and Chantal bit her lip, her mind still reeling from the woman's words.

The Earl thought her compliance endearing? Why? It was surprising.

"Um…It would have to be Hamlet, my lady."

"Hamlet. A rational answer. Very well. Ophelia would suit you, for you possess her shine. Now, favorite comedy?"

Chantal didn't have to think much on the question, "_An Evening's Love_." She replied and Nell Gwyn burst into giggles.

Chantal smiled.

"How very courageous of you! You know what they called that play." Ms. Gwyn said and Chantal shrugged.

"Smutty. But who cares?" She replied and Ms. Gardor smirked.

"How interesting. The Earl must have a great time with you." She murmured and received a glare from Gwyn.

"Anne." She turned her attention back to Chantal, "How did you decide to become an actress?" She asked quietly and Chantal did not know how to answer that.

"I cannot answer that. That was what I wanted to be. It offers a way out of life, don't you think?" She said softly and Gwyn blinked.

"I guess it does." She placed her hand upon her swollen stomach and Chantal's gaze lingered upon the woman's belly.

"I beg pardon for the intrusion, ladies. But I must steal Ms. Paige away." The Earl's voice startled her and she quickly looked up.

He was behind her chair, leaning casually against his walking stick and looking very much the handsome widower that he was.

"Of course, my Lord." Nell replied with a small smile, "Care for a cup of tea with the Protestant whore?" she asked and Chantal's eyes widened while Rochester burst into laughter. Chantal turned and looked at him with wide eyes. She hadn't heard him laugh before.

"Madam, I'd be more than happy to oblige you, but I must run." His eyes caught sight of Ms. Gardor and he paused, "No introduction to your charming friend, Nell? I am displeased." He murmured as his eyes took the other woman greedily in.

Chantal quickly stood to gather her things, just to occupy herself with something. He looked nothing like the warm father she had seen the previous night. No. Now he was a predator looking for fresh, unsoiled meat.

"Oh, yes. Anne Maureen Gardor, my Lord. Our new opera singer." Mrs. Gwyn smiled and Ms. Gardor stood as Rochester took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

"A pleasure, madam." He murmured with a small smirk, his voice as smooth as honey.

"Likewise, my Lord." She replied with a shark-like grin.

Chantal blinked and looked at Gwyn who rolled her eyes and smiled at her.

The Earl straightened and turned to look at Chantal. Finally.

His eyes took in her slightly flushed face and he frowned, "Shall we?" He asked and she nodded mutely.

"My Lord." Nell called and he turned to her.

She outstretched her hand towards him. She had a velvet pouch clasped in her fingers. "Compliments of the King." She winked and he smirked as he took it. He pocketed the coins and inclined his head.

"Thank you." He placed a hand on Chantal's lower back and gently steered her towards the exit after placing a coin at her side of the table to pay for her tea. Her eyes widened at his action, but she didn't comment on it as they made their way to the exit after her quiet farewells. It didn't pass her notice that he turned more than once to gaze at the table behind them.

She frowned and almost scowled, "What was that, my Lord?" She asked as they stepped out of the tea house.

Lord Rochester hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her down the street and towards the closest tavern. She tensed.

"Relax, madam. I simply need a drink and then we shall go to the seamstress." He told her with a dark smirk of amusement.

"What for?" She asked with surprise.

"You need clothes."

"Forgive me, sir, but you have no-…"

"Now, I do." He patted the pouch which he had put inside the inner pocket of his coat and grinned, "Come along, darling. The public is waiting for our display of affection."

Chantal shook her head, "My Lord." She squeezed his forearm and he looked down upon her delicate hand with a quirked eyebrow.

"Did a spider just squeeze my limb? Heavens, have you _no_ strength? Speak your mind." He said once he noticed her fury. He was bloody amused!

"Why is the King giving you money?" she asked and he looked down at her face, his eyes dark and scorching.

"Why indeed?" He husked as he picked up her free hand and pressed it firmly to his mouth, "You, my dear, are going to be my salvation. And I shall be yours." He breathed against her skin and she gulped as his mouth left a profound tingling wetness against her skin.

"Come along." He murmured as he pulled her after him into the busy tavern.

"My Lord!" she exclaimed and he rolled his eyes.

"What?" He glared at her.

"I forgot to give you this." She pulled out Barry's letter and handed it to him, "It's from Mrs. Barry." She informed him and his lip twitched into a scowl before he took it and thrust it unceremoniously in his pocket. His tugging along became harsher after that.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_A few days later…_

It was easy to do this. The wet-nurse fell asleep on the armchair even before little Beth had done so herself. It wasn't right. The girl didn't have the endurance to care for a child twenty four hours a day. Chantal felt pity for the young woman. Enduring the Earl's wrath _and_ caring for a child that wasn't her own. It was hard and you had to be selfless to actually care for a child that wasn't your own flesh and blood. Nellie did care for the child as far as it put food in her mouth and on her family's table. No one could blame her for that, but Chantal knew that since she was free and had nothing to do at nights but listen to the child's gurgles and whimpers, she had to help. That was what she told herself anyway.

Striding over to the sleeping maid, she leaned down and picked Beth from her arms. The wet-nurse's hands remained where they were and Chantal breathed a sigh of relief when the child did not complain. It appeared that Beth recognized her scent by then.

"Madam, you mustn't!" Nellie gasped groggily as Chantal made to walk over to the window.

She paused.

"It's alright. No one will know. You can go rest." She said quietly, gently bouncing the baby.

"Madam, Lord Rochester shall dismiss me! He-…"

"If you keep shouting, then he shall know. Hush up. It's fine. Go rest. I shall put her to bed. I won't leave." Chantal tried to ease her fears, but the maid was not easily convinced after the Earl's latest scolding.

"Go." She encouraged gently and Nellie sighed before she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Chantal sat down in the settee near the crib and leaned back. The familiar feeling of calmness overtook her and before she knew it she felt like she had no care in the world. She smiled.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"My, my. You just enjoy breaking my one and only rule, don't you?" The Earl's voice woke her up and she shot up in the settee, her hands numb from the awkward angle she had been sleeping in.

She looked up at him and she almost winced at his anger. Her eyes went to the crib only to find that Beth was not in there.

"No, look at me." He commanded and she reluctantly turned her gaze back to him, "Good." He smirked and approached her with his hands by his sides. The hem of his robe brushed her naked feet as he came to loom just in front of her.

"Do you understand English, Ms. Paige? Or should I converse with you in French instead? Or perhaps Latin."

"No need, my Lord." She shook her head.

"Then why can't you keep yourself away from the child? I am starting to think you are attached to her."

"And that would pose a problem." She stated.

"Indeed. Your stay here is temporary. Sending the wet-nurse away and taking her place is not healthy, now is it?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

Chantal had nothing to say to that, "I can leave your residence-…"

"Ms. Paige." He cut her off, "Don't you know that you are under my protection now? As long as you are under my training you cannot go."

"But people don't think I am _just_ your student." She pointed out sharply. She was fed up with the façade.

"No. But that was the point." He smirked, momentarily forgetting her transgression.

"Why?"

"My dear Chantal," he leaned towards her, "The King listens to me. He is the one who is funding your tutoring." He informed her and she paused.

"Why?"

"Because his mistress pointed you out to him."

She sputtered, "Ms. Gwyn?"

"Indeed."

"Why?"

"Because I talked to her." He smirked crookedly.

Chantal's face shone with realization, "You want them to employ me at the King's Company."

He clapped his hands, "Bravo. Now you see why you have to play along?" He cocked an eyebrow, but at her glum face he clicked his tongue in sheer irritation, "Come, come, Ms. Paige. You're an actress. Surely I am not that abhorrent to you." He told her and she flushed.

"I do not think it's possible to find you abhorrent unless someone actually gets to know you, my Lord." She fired and he actually chuckled.

"Then I should perhaps be an actor too."

Chantal abruptly stood, "I see I am the source of your amusement whilst you are here in this house, my Lord." She started walking away, but he caught her arm.

"It's better to amuse me than anger me, madam. Believe my words." He told her in a low voice and she pursed her lips.

"I see. It won't happen again." She said in a quiet voice.

He released her, but before she had the chance to flee the room his voice stopped her.

"Chantal."

She stopped by the door, "Yes."

"Your interest in children is…surprising. May I ask the reason behind this ardor?" His voice was firm, his tone curious.

Chantal swallowed the lump in her throat before she turned to look at him.

"You don't know me. That's why it's surprising, my Lord. And I mean no offence." She added.

"None taken." He pursed his lips as he regarded her carefully, "Pray, make me know you."

"Why?" She asked with genuine shock.

He took a deep breath, "Your behavior intrigues me. And that's a compliment." He clarified.

She took a deep breath, "You might find such an ardor in women who most likely won't have the pleasure of breeding." She replied and she was ready to flee, but his voice stopped her again.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked her sharply and she gritted her teeth.

"It must seem rather surprising to a man of your age to know that a woman in my age is not yet courted, right?" She asked as she turned around to face him.

"What are you implying, Ms. Paige? Speak clearly." He snapped and she could see the news of her deficiency angered him for some reason. Maybe because that would not leave him much room to mock her.

"I am." She objected.

"Madam, I thought you detested men. I had no idea your situation had deeper roots." He informed her as he approached, "What makes you so certain that you won't be able to be a mother?" He asked.

She closed her eyes briefly, "Must we talk about this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That is not answer!"

"Of course it is. An evading one." He cocked an eyebrow.

She shook her head, "I fear my story will bore you."

"Impossible. Your countenance alone is enough to keep a gentleman on his toes." He placed his hands behind his back and looked at her with increasing intensity.

She flushed, "First you scold me and then you compliment me."

"Yes, unfortunately I possess that trait."

She looked away from him, "When I was fourteen I had an accident." She said, but he remained silent. His silence gave her courage to carry on.

"I was an avid horseback rider. From an early age." She looked at the gardens beyond the windows and sighed, "I had a mare. She was feisty, but she only obeyed me. One day I decided to take a late ride. The sky looked awful, ready to start pouring down, but I was insistent. I got out in secret and got the horse. Like always she obeyed me. On the way back, the rain caught up with me. In my haste to get out of the cold I pushed the mare to make haste. I couldn't see very well in the dark so it wasn't surprising when the accident happened. The horse stumbled and threw me off. I landed pinned against a tree trunk with a sharp tree branch lodged in my abdomen." She paused to look at him.

His features betrayed nothing but attention so she continued.

"Apparently the wood pierced through my insides but it did not kill me. My uterus was severely damaged due to the impact. I guess you can understand the rest." She finished with a small shrug.

The silence that fell around them was deafening until he broke it.

"You're barren." He stated and it sounded so harsh coming from a man's mouth.

"Probably." She whispered.

He took a few steps towards her and she tried hard to hold her ground. He came to stand a breath away from her

"Can you feel pleasure?" He asked and she flushed.

"Beg pardon?" She almost squealed.

"You heard me." He murmured.

"I am not sure…" She sputtered, "But that is immaterial."

"Not to me." He said in the same murmur.

"Oh? May I ask why?" she asked as she smoothed down her skirts.

"Because now I will be wondering if I could make you scream." He circled her once, "But I doubt that you'd let me make you my newest experiment. Still, it's tempting to find out." He breathed and she snorted.

"I am already your new experiment." She told him.

"Not in the way that it'd be most pleasurable for me." He informed her crudely and she whirled around to face him.

"My Lord. Be careful or I'll think you're teasing me, or rather _playing_ with my torment." She accused and he narrowed his eyes.

"Madam, I am most serious." His eyes swept her form and she shivered.

She stared at him for a moment, but then he broke the eye contact to walk around her once, his hand barely brushing the laces of her dress before it dipped lower.

She took a step forward and out of his reach, "You're indecent, my Lord. It is not charming"

"Indeed." He grinned and she flushed more as he walked around her. He stopped in front of her.

"But I think you're lying to yourself." He whispered.

Chantal looked away and cleared her throat, "So, have I quenched your curiosity?" She asked and he breathed in sharply.

"Madam, on the contrary. You have inflamed it." He said and she looked at him sharply, but he stepped back, his hands up in surrender, "Don't look so severe, Ms. Paige. It's not becoming." He smirked as he headed for the door, "On these terms, I'd be more than happy to feed your motherly instincts." He turned to look at her from over his shoulder just before he disappeared, "No one shall ever call me unrefined. Be prepared for the King."

With those words he disappeared. Chantal almost collapsed to the floor.

**End of chapter 6**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. Comments anyone?**

***Info: Venus and Adonis, is an opera written in 1683 for King Charles' court. One of the first English operas according to Wikipedia.**

**Also, Nell Gwyn called herself the Protestant whore in one occasion where a group of people mistook her for the King's other mistress, the Duchess of Portsmouth, calling her the Catholic whore. She cheekily answered them that she was the Protestant one. She was known for her sharp wit.***

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! Welcome back!**

**I want to thank: TinkerbellxO, nuckythompson, ForeverACharmedOne, CharlieCats, Leyshla Gisel, MissMisc3, XantheXV, dionne dance, Little-Annie and PGAEmma. Thank you for your support!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

'_**Love begins with an image, lust with a sensation.'**_

_**~Mason Cooley**_

"Is the cellar stocked?" The Earl's voice echoed around the house as Chantal slowly made her way down the stairs.

"Aye, me Lord." Alcock's voice replied smugly and Chantal frowned as she stepped into the hall.

"Have you paid the…Oh, Ms. Paige? Just the person I needed. Come closer, would you please?" the Earl beckoned her closer as soon as he saw her and Chantal slowly approached.

"My Lord?" she gave a small bow and then locked eyes with him.

"Are you heading to Beth's room?"

"Indeed, I am." She gave a subtle nod.

"Excellent." He handed her a small pouch, "Give this to the wet-nurse. Is there anything that the child needs and you are aware of it?" He cocked an eyebrow.

Chantal took the money and nodded, "Indeed, my Lord. The girl told me that the child is growing. She needs more clothes." She replied quietly and he nodded.

"Tell her to get her anything she needs."

Chantal gave a tiny smile and she quickly turned around, ready to flee from his presence.

"Ms. Paige." His sharp tone caused her to pause. She closed her eyes and then turned around to face him.

"Yes?"

He handed another pouch to Alcock and nodded at him. Once the servant was gone, he turned his attention to her again.

"When you're done, return here to me. We have something to do." He told her with a tiny smirk, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Chantal swallowed with difficulty, "I thought I was going to do a rehearsal-…"

"Forget the rehearsal for today. We need to work on your confidence, madam. I shall be waiting in the parlor." With those words he turned and walked away.

Chantal watched him go with a confused expression and then reluctantly headed for Beth's room with a sigh.

She found the wet-nurse inside the room, "Nellie?" She called.

The girl quickly turned around to face her, "Madam?"

"I have something for you." Chantal said as she gave a brief glance towards the crib. The baby was sound asleep.

"Me?"

Chantal handed her the pouch and the girl's eyes widened.

"From the Earl. Spend what you need and while you are at it, buy the child whatever clothes she needs."

Nellie blinked, "Shall I return the change?"

Chantal frowned, "No. No one told me that." She shook her head and the girl's eyes shone with relief.

"Thank you."

Chantal nodded and then decided that it was better not to prolong the inevitable. She simply walked out of the chamber and returned to the parlor.

As she entered she noticed that Rochester was in his cloak and riding boots. She frowned as she gazed at his turned back.

"My Lord?"

He whirled around to face her, "Ah, there you are. Come with me." He opened the side door that led to the gardens and she followed him. His pace was quick and his cloak was billowing along with the wind as he walked.

Chantal tried to keep up with him and briefly wondered what on earth they were doing outside.

"My Lord, don't you think that we should start working on my lines-…"

"Ms. Paige, are you doubting me?" He stopped and turned around to look at her.

She stopped short and inhaled sharply at his close proximity. Why did he always do that?

"No, sir, but I do wonder what we are doing outside." She replied and he licked his lips before he reached out and grasped her chin between his fingers.

"Tell me, madam, are you that naïve?" He asked her in a mere murmur as his eyes burned her face.

She gulped, "My Lord?'

"Ms. Paige, why are you not following me? Do you think that I'd train you so that you could act upon that sordid stage? Oh, please, tell me you didn't." He narrowed his eyes.

"Well," she started and the movement of her jaw was not enough to free her from his grip, "I was under the impression that I was employed at the Duke's."

"Yes. But do you really want to act alongside Mrs. Barry? She'd never let you live if you did that." He released her and regarded her coolly.

Chantal frowned a little, "So, all this …What purpose does it have?"

He smirked, "My, my. Your head is in a haze. I wonder why." He commented and she flushed.

"Forgive me, but my intelligence is minimal when compared to your schemes." She fired back and he grinned.

"Yes, indeed! But I do have faith in you. Tell me, what was the reason behind your visit to Mr. Betterton?" He asked her and she faltered.

"The text-…"

"Ms. Paige, think! Or I might come up with a few ways to wake you up!" He snarled at her.

She glared at him and then sighed, "I mentioned Theatre Royal."

"Exactly!"

Realization fell on her like a ton of bricks, "You want them to dismiss me!" She gasped.

He clapped his hands, "Bravo. You'd never survive next to Lizzie. Forgive my words, but you are rather tame when compared to her." He murmured as he eyed her with interest.

"Thank God for that!" She snapped and he smirked.

"But you might possess the same fire when provoked. I wonder what else I could do to provoke you…"

At her blank stare he chuckled, "Don't look so severe, madam. Surely you are aware of the potential you have. So, yes. You must be dismissed from the Duke's theatre."

"But why?"

He turned around and started walking, his destination now clear. He was heading for the stables. Chantal frowned.

"Let us see…Mrs. Gwyn will soon retire to give birth to the King's child. That will leave an open position at Theatre Royal." He spoke without looking at her and as they got closer to the stables the stable boy bowed his head. With a motion of the Earl's head he walked inside in a hurry.

"Yes…You want me to fill that position." Chantal said in a rush, "I am no one, my Lord. Why would they employ me?"

"Ms. Paige, my every action has led to this. Every word you said to Mr. Betterton was destined to provoke him." He turned and looked at her as he reached over and grabbed a riding crop that was lying on top of some hay.

"Is that why the King is favoring you now? Does he have hopes that his company will have me as its leading lady?" She asked and when he turned to her with the crop in hand she paused.

"Finally we see eye to eye, madam. Good." He outstretched his hand and offered her the riding crop.

She blinked in confusion and he smirked, "You shall need it." He told her simply and then the stable boy appeared with two horses. A black one and a chestnut colored one. She gasped, "What's this?" she asked quietly and he rolled his eyes with a soft groan.

"Ms. Paige, why are you being so difficult this morning? It's a horse. A stallion to be precise." He responded as he thrust the riding crop in her hands and then grabbed the black horse's reins.

"I am not riding that." She said quickly and he paused.

"Yes, you are." He nodded and she narrowed her eyes.

"No, I am not! I haven't ridden for years!"

He grinned and cocked an eyebrow and she was too upset to flush at the innuendo.

"Time to remember how then."

"I am not mounting a horse ever again." She shook her head and tightened her hold on the riding crop.

The Earl regarded her coolly before he mounted his horse in one swift move. As soon as he was sitting comfortably upon the saddle he pursed his lips and gazed down at her. He outstretched his hand and the boy handed him another riding crop.

"Yes, you are." He insisted in a low voice and she gritted her teeth.

"I see no purpose in this, my Lord. If you are that lonely you should call upon another lady who would be more susceptible to horseback riding." She took a step back and it was then that she noticed that the chestnut colored horse was looking straight at her.

"Believe me, I could find much more riveting company if I so wished it. But in order to bring you out of that sordid shell of yours, we must work on your confidence. How else are we going to do that if we do not face your fears? Now, mount the horse and stop wasting my time." He gave a small pat on his horse's mane and the horse neighed softly.

Chantal gulped, "I knew it was a mistake confessing my past to you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're using it against me!" she hissed.

He had the nerve to chuckle, "Madam, if I was intent on my purpose of using your past against you, I'd have you pressed against the hay, not riding alongside you. Wouldn't you agree that such an action would be far more pleasurable for the both of us? Now, get on with it." He enunciated the last words and she huffed.

"You always get your way, don't you?" She muttered as she took a step closer to the horse.

"Always." His eyes were burning with a wicked glimmer of satisfaction and she sighed.

"Assist the lady." He commanded and the boy started walking towards Chantal, but she shook her head and held a hand up to stop him.

"I'm fine. Just take this." She handed the riding crop back to the young man and the Earl cocked an eyebrow.

She remained silent as she slowly, but easily, mounted the horse. When she was seated upon the saddle she looked at the Earl.

"I never use a crop." She explained with a small shrug as she grasped the reins tightly in her hands and took a deep breath, "Shall we?" she raised an eyebrow and Rochester smirked before he tugged on the reins and the horse started moving forward.

Chantal did the same with a little hesitance and once the stallion started galloping slowly she released a shaky breath.

The Earl led the horse towards the thicker part of the park and he was fluid enough to duck as tree branches blocked his way.

Chantal tried the same thing, but she was still timid and less swift in her moves. When she gasped for the third time because a branch nicked her skin, he clicked his tongue and turned to look at her from over his shoulder.

"For God's sake, duck!" He exclaimed and she could detect a tinge of mirth in his voice.

"Perhaps if you had chosen a different path, I wouldn't _have_ to duck!" She called back.

"What would be the challenge in that?" He called as he patted the horse's side with the leather keeper. The horse picked up the pace and Chantal was left behind.

She gasped and came to an abrupt halt by tugging on the reins tightly. The stallion neighed and stopped, and she watched with wide eyes as the Earl and his horse disappeared from her sight.

She scoffed and gently petted the horse's mane before she took a deep breath, "I am not racing you!" she yelled and when a distant chuckle rang in her ears she rolled her eyes. Realizing that if she didn't follow him she'd get lost in the woods, she gently pushed her feet against the horse's sides and led it forward.

"Fine, let's do this." She muttered and with a sharp movement of her hands the stallion leaped forward, his long feet moving in swift strides that had her heart racing. She had the urge to stop the animal more than a few times, but she didn't. She simply let it gallop through the woods at a fast pace. The wind was slapping her face and when branches stood in her way she simply moved her head out of their way. The tiny nicks from the previous branches stung as the wind hit her face, but she didn't care. She brought the horse to a stop as soon as they arrived in front of a pond. The Earl had already dismounted his horse and he was gently tapping the riding crop against his thigh while gazing at the water and the animals in it.

Chantal was slightly breathless from the ride and she took her time in hopping down from the horse. She scowled when he didn't turn to look at her.

"Such a gentleman, my Lord. You did not even turn to make sure I was alright." She said with irk as she smoothed down her skirts and looked at his back.

"Don't you think that means that I have faith in you?" He asked her while gazing at her from over his shoulder.

She was at a loss for words at that so she simply walked towards him and came to stand next to him.

She watched as he rhythmically moved the crop along his thigh and she frowned at the look in his eyes.

"You like it here." She said softly and he smirked.

"I don't like the country, Ms. Paige. So, I don't like it that much…But there is something about watching these birds swim in this little pond…" He murmured and she gazed at him oddly.

"That," he motioned towards the water and the ducks, "Is my vision of heaven." He smirked and she giggled a bit.

He looked at her.

"You mean to tell me that you'd prefer it if you were a duck?" She asked and he pursed his mouth.

"Well, in my head the idea does not sound as ludicrous as it does when it's coming from your lips." He said as he ran his tongue over his teeth in deep thought.

"Hmm." She murmured, "It's not ludicrous. I do believe that animals are far more useful creatures than men and women."

That caught his interest and he turned to face her this time, "Would you care to expand on that?" He asked her and she took a deep breath.

"Well, in my experience the human race is far too absolved of any sin…It only takes a prayer or an apology to feel forgiven…We sometimes compare men to beasts and I have to disagree." She said timidly.

He cocked an eyebrow, "Pray, why do you disagree?"

Chantal cleared her throat, "Well, beasts only do what they must do to survive…People just turn into animals out of…I don't know…amusement or revenge. Now who is worse? The person or the animal?" she gave a tiny shrug and Rochester surprised her by laughing.

"Well, Ms. Paige, you give rather good speeches." He told her and then moved his hand towards her face. His thumb brushed away a few drops of blood and he rubbed the liquid between his fingers before he produced a handkerchief. He handed it to her and she took it while he cleaned his hand in the pond.

"I doubt it…You on the other hand do." She whispered with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

He looked up at her, "How do you know if you've never heard me?"

"You just convinced me to mount a horse after almost ten years. That makes you a convincing speaker." She smiled a bit and dabbed at the nicks on her cheek.

He stood and approached her and then tapped the tip of the crop's handle against his chin in deep thought.

"Madam, I wonder if there was anything else I could convince you into doing…" he told her as his eyes took in her flushed face and windswept hair.

Chantal blinked, "It depends on the approach you might take in your attempt to do so." She said, the words leaving her mouth in a rush, as if she was afraid of speaking them too slowly.

Rochester gently lifted her head by thrusting the crop underneath her chin. The smell of leather burned her nostrils as he did so, but she didn't move.

His eyes were burning, making the brown even darker and she swallowed thickly.

"I mean-…"

"I know very well what you mean, Ms. Paige." he cut her off in a too quiet voice, "I don't mind using any approach at my disposal…But I fear that if I were to make my way through your skirts, you'd think on it too much; worry about it too much. Make it more important than it should be. And what would happen then?" he asked her quietly as he walked behind her and wrapped an arm around her middle, pressing his palm hard against her lower belly as if trying to reach the tight knot in her stomach by simply palming her clothed skin.

"I do not know. Enlighten me, please?"

His breath was warm on her neck as he breathed evenly in and out and when he spoke she stiffened.

"I fear that your sweet and kind disposition would be your downfall if I were to nestle between your lovely thighs for the rest of your training. Although," he trailed the leather of the crop down her throat, "Maybe a few romps might be beneficial in releasing you from the tight confines of your too stifling reserve." His lips pressed a kiss to her nicked cheek and the riding crop slid down, parting the opening of her neckline and slipping lower until she slapped his hand away.

She quickly turned around and he took his time in pulling his hand away from her corseted waist.

"What makes you think I'd cling onto your arm like a virgin schoolgirl?" She asked him angrily and he cocked an eyebrow.

"But you are a virgin schoolgirl in this case." He laughed at her expression and when she glared at him he stopped and smirked.

"No…That sure is a surprise." He murmured and she flushed angrily.

"Thank God, you don't know everything about me, yes?" She snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, my dear madam. Tell me, who was the lucky man? No, no! Let me guess." He pressed the crop to her lips and she pulled her head away.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Oh, but I will. A young adolescent who fiddled around without really knowing what he was doing wrong? Or perhaps-…"

"I was under the impression, even for just one moment, that I was talking with an adult, my Lord! Surely, you are aware that this kind of vulgarity is not going to work in your favor, aren't you? Not when it comes to me." She cut him off and he chuckled.

"Very well. Let us act like adults." He gave a small bow of contrition and then stepped closer. She took a step back as he reached for her arm and he clicked his tongue.

"Adults, _Chantal_." He admonished as he curled his hand around her arm and tugged her closer. Her chest collided with his and his hand got lost in her hair as she tried to pull her head back. He held her fast and before she could blink, let alone breathe he had covered her lips with his own. Her breath escaped through her nose as the kiss was not like the one he had given her at the theatre. No, this was harsh, punishing; scorching. His teeth bit down on her lip and his tongue parted her mouth with force as he held her to him, the crop in his hand pressing hard against the dip of her lower back and causing her to wince into the kiss.

Against her will, or perhaps because of it, her lips softened although her body remained stiff and tense. Feeling the change in her, his tongue brushed and laved at every inch of her mouth with hunger. She could feel every inch of him against her; she could even feel a tiny scar on the edge of his lower lip, probably a reminder of his illness.

Realizing that she was encouraging him, she turned her head away and he let her even as he tightened his fingers in her hair in retaliation. His lips didn't remain idle and they kissed and licked at the edge of her jaw instead until he stopped and pressed his cheek against hers.

"And that's how adults act like." he breathed harshly into her ear, "They take what they want. Don't you agree, Ms. Paige?" His voice was hoarse and she could still feel the pressure of the crop against her lower back. When he obnoxiously tapped her waist with it, she realized that the action didn't scare her as much as it should have. His rough handling wasn't what was intimidating; her responses to it were.

"I suppose they do."

She was surprised that her voice actually worked.

He regarded her with heated eyes and she could feel every part of him pressing against her, but he didn't seem in a hurry to move away. He patted her leg with the crop for one last time and then released her. She stumbled a bit, but didn't embarrass herself further by falling.

His eyes roamed her form once and when he locked eyes with her he nodded slowly.

"You ride beautifully, Ms. Paige." He told her quietly and she blinked in surprise.

"Um…thank you." She whispered as she fought hard not to place her fingers against her lips. She could feel his saliva drying on the corner of her mouth and jaw. She shivered and not necessarily from disgust.

"The horse is yours." He told her crisply before he made his way to his stallion.

"My Lord?" she whispered as she turned to look at him, following him with her wide eyes.

He mounted his horse and grabbed the reins before he looked down at her, a tiny frown on his face.

"The King paid for it." he told her simply before he tugged on the reins and took off, "He knows the way back!" He called just before he disappeared into the woods.

Chantal stared at his retreating form before she quickly turned and faced the pond. Tears gathered in her eyes and she didn't know why. She wiped them away and her cheek stung as the blood got mixed with the salty tears.

She took a deep breath and shook her head before she turned and walked back to her horse. She gently stroked his face and then mounted him.

The stallion led her home on its own.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I need warm water for the child…What's that smell?"

Chantal paused by the kitchen door when she heard voices.

"It's a meat pie, Nell." The cook's voice was loud and heavy and Chantal cocked an eyebrow when both women laughed.

"Took us a while to have some solid food, aye? But Lord Rochester always manages his way around the King."

"Oh, Margery! I wonder why!" Nellie giggled and poked the older woman with her hand.

"Hush up, you. I am glad to see better days. Now, I'll have your water ready soon. One of the servants will bring it up." Margery said and Chantal cleared her throat as she stepped inside.

Both women turned and faced her.

"Oh! Ms. Paige. Come, come. You look chilled to the bone. How was your evening stroll in the garden? I hope the dogs didn't disturb you. I haven't fed them yet." The cook said and Chantal smiled.

"No, they did not. In fact, I find them adequate company sometimes." She shot a look at Nellie who averted her gaze and stepped forward.

"I must get back to the child." She said with a deep flush before she moved past Chantal.

"So, Ms. Paige. Would you like some chamomile? I remember you asking for it a few days ago." Margery said as she wiped her plump hands on her apron.

"Thank you." Chantal smiled and walked further into the kitchen. The two large dogs pawed at the side door as soon as they spotted Chantal and she smiled.

"The dogs seem to be fond of you, ma'am. You've charmed them with your talent." Margery said as she handed her a cup of chamomile.

Chantal frowned, "I haven't showed any talent so far, Marge. On the contrary…I've been a fool." She muttered before she turned to walk away, "Good luck on the pie." She called before she disappeared down the hall.

Margery shrugged and went back to her cooking.

"Ma'am!"

Chantal paused and turned to look at the approaching servant. Alcock nodded at her and grinned widely.

"Yes."

"The Earl wants to see you. He's in his study." He informed her and she gulped.

"Right now?"

"Aye, my lady."

"Um, where are you going?" she asked and he scratched the back of his head.

"I am searching for candles."

"Didn't the servants take care of that? The kitchen is sufficiently illuminated."

"Eh…the money wasn't enough." He blurted out and his eyes widened, "But don't tell I said that!" He quickly shook his head and then walked away.

Chantal frowned a bit, but carried on walking. She climbed up the stairs that led to the study, but when she arrived at the door she paused. She peered through the half open door and she heard quiet cursing. The rustling of paper and the sound of boots as the Earl moved around the room was loud to her ears. The study was dressed mostly in darkness. Not giving it much thought, she turned and headed for her room in silence.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She knocked on the door even if it was ajar. Once she stepped inside she lit one of the two candles in her hands and walked towards the desk.

The Earl looked up at her, his eyes dark and shimmering in the candlelight.

"Ms. Paige." He murmured as he looked at her face, "The cuts were quite nasty." He commented and she fingered her nicked cheek before she nodded.

"I guess so." She cleared her throat, feeling her stomach twisting into a tight knot the more he stared at her, "You wanted to see me?" she asked and he nodded.

She eyed the half burned candle on his desk before she turned to look at him.

"Yes, we have been invited to the premiere of the new opera. I expect you to be dressed accordingly tomorrow, yes? And I want you to cover those cuts thoroughly in case someone thinks I am indulging in some sort of perverted escapades with you." His mouth twitched with mirth, but she was too nervous to be around him now. He had left his mark on her with that kiss. She was certain that he had left a scar, like the one she already had on her belly.

When she didn't share the joke, he noticed.

"Madam?"

"I shall do my best, my Lord." She said quickly before she placed both candles on his desk, "I imagine you need them more than me. After all, I no longer need to study _The Tempest_, yes? After I step foot in Theatre Royal they will dismiss me, won't they? Wasn't that your plan all along?" she asked and he frowned.

"The end justifies the means. You shall succeed upon that stage, I am certain." He narrowed his eyes when she averted hers, "You don't believe me?"

"Oh, on the contrary, my Lord. I do. I do and I am surprised you are not an actor yourself." She said and he stood.

"That would mean a lack of chances for others, Ms. Paige…" He came to stand in front of her.

She turned and looked at him, "Indeed." She murmured and he smirked.

"Thank you for the candles, but I must find a way not to depend on your charity." He told her as he brushed a finger over the candle on his desk.

"Then I better dazzle everyone with my charms tomorrow, yes? That would bring you a better commission." She pointed out and he grinned wickedly.

"If I didn't know how kindhearted you are, I'd take your words for mockery, madam." He breathed as his eyes fell on her lips.

She raised her chin, "Heavens, no. How would I dare?" she murmured and he raised a single eyebrow.

"You interest me, Chantal. You really do. Be careful or I might act on it."

"By all means do so! I am accustomed to it." She gave a wave of her hand and he smirked.

"And quite willing." He pointed out and she was cruelly reminded of her lack of resistance at the pond.

She tensed and took a step back.

"Retiring so soon?" He asked as he followed her like a predator that follows his prey.

"Yes."

"You have not handed in the last task I asked of you."

"If you hadn't forced me into horseback riding I might had finished it."

His eyes glimmered, "Indeed. Goodnight, Ms. Paige. Dream of me." He told her and at her glare he chuckled and turned away.

He took his seat behind his desk and picked up his quill. He shot her a glance and shook his head in amusement, but she fled before she had the chance to see anything more.

'_**Ambition is a lust that is never quenched, but grows more inflamed and madder by enjoyment.'**_

_**~Thomas Otway**_

**End of chapter 7**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Liked it? Or perhaps not? I hope this doesn't seem like a filler chapter, because it isn't. The pond scene will play a big role when it comes to Chantal's emotions, trust me. I had meant to include the opera premiere, but then it would be too darn long and I don't want you to shoot me! Haha!**

**So, comments? Please? They are my only payment, and let's face it; I am penniless. :p**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Welcome to another chapter! I want to thank: PGAEmma, NewlandArcher, MissMisc3, dionne dance, Leyshla Gisel, XantheXV, TinkerbellxO and CharlieCats. Thank you for your support. It means a lot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine…Obviously…The Earl would be in my closet otherwise…**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

'_**The intellect of the wise is like glass; it admits the light of heaven and reflects it.'**_

_**~Augustus Hare**_

Theatre Royal was at its best that evening. It was greatly illuminated and a long, lavish red carpet was greeting the public as soon as they made it to the first step. The doors seemed freshly polished and they shone in the candlelight. Ladies and gentleman of the upper class were animatedly talking amongst themselves, but as Chantal looked around she realized that commoners were among the crowd as well. One could make them out from the rest people because of their less luxurious clothes and hats.

"Stop hunching, Ms. Paige." The Earl's voice made her look at him sharply, "I've told you before that it's not flattering." He murmured before he shot a crooked grin towards a couple of gentlemen. He tipped his hat at them and then turned to look at her. His eyes swept her form and he smirked a little.

"You look lovely by the way, Ms. Paige. What is the color called?" He asked as he looked forward and led her directly towards Nell Gwyn.

Chantal licked her lips, "Midnight blue, my Lord. And thank you for the compliment. You're hardly ever giving me any." She replied quietly and he chuckled before he grabbed her hand from the crook of his elbow and kissed it loudly. She gasped and her eyes widened, but he achieved his purpose of attracting attention when Mrs. Gwyn turned and looked at them.

"Ah, my Lord Rochester. Welcome to our theatre. Ms. Paige." The beautiful woman turned her eyes on Chantal, "How are you?"

"I am well, madam. And you?" Chantal asked as she surreptitiously pulled her hand away from the Earl's grasp. He smirked and leaned against his walking stick.

"I am growing." Mrs. Gwyn gently patted her swollen belly and Chantal smiled, "And you, my Lord? How are you?" She politely asked the Earl who nodded at her.

"I am well, madam. Eager for the new spectacle." His eyes did a quick perusal of the theatre's entrance before he turned to the actress again, "And how is Ms. Gardor? Anxious?" He asked with a glimmer in his eye and Chantal shifted uncomfortably next to him, her eyes on the folds of her skirts. Since that day at the pond she had been feeling…odd around him; fidgety, anxious and mindful of her every action and word.

Nell Gwyn grinned at him, "Anne? Anxious? Don't amuse me, my Lord. She is just eager to meet with the theatre's patrons…I imagine you are one of the gentlemen in her list…The question that remains is if you're interested." Her eyes went to Chantal for a moment before she locked them with the Earl's dark gaze again.

"Hmm." Was his only reply and Mrs. Gwyn nodded.

"I see…Well, Ms. Paige," she turned to Chantal who looked up and smiled a little, "May I introduce you Mr. Killigrew, our theatre manager. But I think you've met him before." She waved her elegant hand towards the man standing beside her. He gave a small bow and stepped forward.

"Ms. Chantal Paige, if I recall correctly, yes?" He outstretched his hand towards her and she nodded before she took it.

He shook it firmly while his eyes roamed her pampered form, "I've heard a lot more about you since the first time we met." He said as he released her hand and briefly looked at the Earl who had his head held high. In his glimmering dark eyes one could see the satisfaction. Chantal was a little bit scared of the glimmer in his wicked gaze.

"Oh? Nothing bad, I hope." She replied smoothly and Mr. Killigrew looked at her.

"No, not really. I admire a woman who can put an actress like Mrs. Barry in her place…I heard you're still in negotiations with the Duke's?" He cocked an eyebrow and she frowned, but the Earl was quick to speak and save her from trouble.

"Indeed. There are some disputes among the Duke's staff…Some people cannot bear competition." Rochester said and smiled, "But I imagine you are so very more competent when it comes to management. I hear that your establishment is the King's favorite. Will he be present tonight, Master Thomas?" He asked politely and the man seemed to grow twice in height from the Earl's not too subtle praise.

"Indeed, my Lord. He will be here soon…" he then turned to Chantal, "May I suppose that Ms. Paige is interested in another stage? I imagine it must be difficult to act in such horrid environment."

Chantal swallowed the lump in her throat and offered a smile and a small incline of her head, "Indeed, I am, sir…" she paused, "I would actually be very thrilled to work elsewhere. But I have received no-…"

"You must visit me this upcoming week, Ms. Paige…I may have an offer that you won't be able to resist." He smiled at her and the Earl smirked.

Nell Gwyn winked at the Earl and clapped her hands, "How lovely." She exclaimed and then turned to Mr. Killigrew, "She'd be the excellent candidate for my replacement, Master Thomas, yes? Imagine the shock if we managed to acquire such a gem."

Chantal smiled nervously as Killigrew assessed her with his eyes.

"Indeed. Call upon me one of these days and you will no longer have to endure the disputes that have you in such a dim spot." He nodded his head and then stepped back, "I must run backstage. Please, find your seats. My Lord." He bowed his head and then walked away.

Mrs. Gwyn chuckled, "That was so easy, wasn't it?" She whispered and Chantal looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes.

"What a wicked pair you are." She blurted out and Mrs. Gwyn laughed while the Earl smirked.

"Indeed. Go and find our seats. I'll be right back." He murmured, giving her an intimate pat on her lower back before he walked away.

Chantal watched him as he headed backstage and frowned, but Nell Gwyn was swift to catch her attention.

"Come, we are seated together." She said kindly and Chantal followed her towards the gallery in silence.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Do not fear, Ms. Paige." Mrs. Gwyn spoke up and Chantal turned her gaze away from the front of the seats where the Earl was talking with the stage director. She turned away as he handed the man something.

"Fear, madam?" she murmured as she folded her hands upon her lap and looked at the other woman.

"Hmm. I see that you're actually reluctant to attack your peers with your determination, but I must point out that they will not be as kind or polite." She took a big breath, before she continued, "Our profession can bear no hesitation. We must pounce or we will end up like the girls backstage…Begging for a man's attention…Hoping that they will be kind enough not to let us starve." Nell's eyes were slightly moist when she turned to look at Chantal, "Trust me, we are lucky we don't have that fate."

Chantal nodded, "I know…" she turned her eyes upon the stage, "But I am not sure about mine yet." She murmured and Mrs. Gwyn gasped.

"Why would you say that? If you are good in your audition, you shall get the position." The other woman nodded with determination, "My Lord Rochester will make sure of that so listen to him and do as he says. He is incredibly resourceful. That's why he's the King's best friend…despite his faults. For a man who only has his title, he is extremely convincing without relying on gold." She winked and leaned back in her seat, "But I can already see from the look in your eyes that he's already past your walls."

Chantal's eyes widened, "Pardon?" Her cheeks were a bright red.

Mrs. Gwyn laughed warmly and patted her hand with her glove, "My dear, a woman's gaze is her soul…Only men cannot really decipher such looks…because they are fools." She looked down at the stage and smirked when she spotted the Earl walking towards their box, "No matter how much they stray they always go back to the woman who can give them comfort." Nell looked at her sideways, "And that's all they really wish for. They look for beautiful eyes, nice body…voluptuous bosoms…But what really wins a man over in the end is this." She gently tapped her temple, "The mind." She softly placed her hands on her belly and smiled, "That's the only thing that can pull a man closer…or drag him away."

Chantal looked at the other actress with admiration, "You mean that men prefer intelligent ladies…"

"Hmm."

"Then why do they choose immoral, easy women for pleasure?" She asked softly just as the sound of his walking stick alerted them of his upcoming arrival.

Nell Gwyn grinned, "Because they will give it in exchange for coin…and they won't cling. I told you; men _are_ fools." She whispered the last sentence and then grinned, "My Lord! We were just having a talk about you." She exclaimed and the Earl looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you two ladies cooking, I wonder? Pray, what were you talking about?" He elegantly took his seat and removed his hat. He placed it upon his lap and settled his cane against the arm of the seat. He leaned back and let his arm drop off the side of the chair, his fingers just lightly brushing Chantal's heavy skirts.

"We were just commenting on your slyness, my Lord…Mr. Killigrew will be begging to have Ms. Paige upon this stage by the end of the upcoming week." She grinned and he smirked.

"Indeed…There's nothing wiser than have others do your work for you." He chuckled darkly, "See, Ms. Paige? A little manipulation never hurt anyone…" he murmured and she looked at him sideways, "And it was not difficult, was it? All you had to do was smile and timidly bow your head…I must admit I am impressed."

Mrs. Gwyn grinned and turned her head to hide it.

"Impressed?" Chantal frowned, "You always curse my shyness."

"It seems like I was in the wrong…But I can imagine their trouble…Especially when I think of your smile." He laughed a little, "What looks can do…"

Chantal flushed angrily, "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Ms. Paige," he turned to he faced her fully, "If I insulted you, you would know it. I cannot judge something for which I have also fallen for. Now, this _is_ a compliment." He smirked and she sputtered, but Mrs. Gwyn saved her.

"My Lord, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting." She said and the Earl's eyes went to her.

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jesting and having too much fun with our success." He remarked and Chantal looked away from them both, eager for the show to actually start and save her from all the nervousness.

"Oh, but I am! Why lie?" she exclaimed jubilantly, "Like most of my peers, I do not enjoy Mrs. Barry's company…Especially after a certain something that came to my attention." Her gaze settled on the Earl who looked away and waved a hand in dismissal.

"My dear lady, never worry too much about others…The King will not like it." He murmured and Chantal frowned. Mrs. Gwyn was obviously talking about the child, but even she knew that it was a sensitive subject for the Earl.

Nell sighed, "Fine. I can still judge it though." She muttered just as the curtain fell away and the opera began.

Chantal leaned back in her seat and fixed her eyes on the stage. When Ms. Gardor stepped upon the stage, she could literally feel the Earl's excitement oozing from his entire form, causing the air to vibrate with heat. It was odd…unsettling and surprising that a woman could cause such a response. She couldn't help the frown that came and settled permanently upon her pink painted lips.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She blinked and she didn't know if it was the light or the third glass of wine, but she was certain that black and tiny little birds were swimming in her vision. She rubbed her temple and nervously tugged on a loose curl before her eyes perused the large hall. The performance had been wonderful and even the plain, uneducated people were at awe. Ms. Gardor was grinning wildly, gladly accepting the attention and compliments and Chantal realized with a start that she could never be so relaxed around so many men. They were like bees, closing in on her and blindly groping for a chance to have the new performer in their bed by midnight.

"Ms. Paige?" Nell Gwyn's voice rang in her ears and she winced, "Are you alright?" the woman placed a hand on Chantal's bare shoulder.

"I don't think so…My eyes feel…odd." She said and then looked at the wine, "I think it's the wine." She murmured drowsily and Nell laughed kindly.

"I've left you alone far too long. Come, let's join Lord Rochester." She gently led her towards the large circle of people and Chantal frowned.

"He shouldn't be at a party, you know. He's a widower. Shouldn't he mourn for his wife? Pff…Men." She muttered and Nell's eyes widened.

"Hush now."

They came and stood slightly off the side and when the Earl's eyes spotted them he grinned.

"Ah, and may I introduce Ms. Chantal Paige. She is going to be the new star attraction of the theatre." He wrapped and arm around Chantal's waist and pulled her next to him.

She smiled like she was told to earlier and nodded her head, "Good evening."

"How lovely." A gentleman smiled as his eyes stared at her intently and she averted her eyes.

"Yes, may I introduce, Mr. Thomas Otway, Mr. John Dryden, my Earl of Dorset you know…Mr. Killigrew you've met, and this is an old friend of mine, Sir Christopher Wren. He is the greatest architect of our time and our savior." The Earl finished with a smile and Chantal's eyes widened.

"Sir Wren? The man who rebuilt London after the Great Fire? An honor." She bowed her head and the man smiled.

"Likewise, Ms. Paige. We are all eager to see you on stage." He said and she nodded her head.

"Thank you." She murmured and the Earl spoke up.

"Ms. Otway, surely you will find time for a new play?" He asked with a dark spark in his eye and the playwright grinned.

"If you allow me to use your new conquest, my Lord." He gave a tiny bow and the Earl grinned crookedly, but there was something odd in his gaze.

Chantal was way too dizzy to tell what it was.

"I would call her the warm breeze of my horrid winter, good sir." Rochester said with a cock of his head and Chantal gave a chuckle which she quickly covered with a cough.

Rochester eyed her with a frown and he opened his mouth to speak, but then there was a shout and all people turned towards the stairs.

"The King!"

Chantal bowed her head along with the rest of the peerage, but she could still feel the Earl's stare on the side of her face.

"Ms. Gardor. Anne, what a wonderful performance. Where have you been hiding all these years?" the King's voice was loud and joyful and when the Earl and his friends straightened, she looked up and relaxed her posture as well.

"In Paris, your Majesty. Thank you for the compliment."

Ms. Gardor was grinning widely and her gaze momentarily shifted towards the Earl who was looking at the King.

"I shall come to see you again." The King said before he turned his eyes on Rochester.

"John, nice to see you again. I was going to send word…Is this Ms. Paige?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow and the Earl gently propelled Chantal forward.

Chantal walked towards the King and gave a low bow, "Your Majesty." She murmured quietly and then she felt the King's fingers under her chin. She let him raise her face and when they locked eyes he inhaled sharply.

"What a color." He murmured and Ms. Gardor pursed her lips tightly together and stepped back.

"Thank you." Chantal murmured, but the King did not release her.

"Nell, is this her?" He asked and Mrs. Gwyn stepped to the King's side.

"Indeed, Shire. Ms. Paige herself."

"How is your training going?" Charles asked and she was surprised when he spoke directly to her and not to Rochester.

"Well I hope, your Majesty. Thank you for your concern." Chantal replied as she swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness of her mouth. She had drunk too much wine. The room was already spinning and she only hoped she wouldn't say anything silly.

"I imagine Mr. Killigrew has already invited you for an audition?" The King asked and Mrs. Gwyn nodded subtly in encouragement. Chantal realized that it was chance to make herself amiable to the King.

"He has been ever so kind to invite me, yes. I am quite thrilled to work for such a prestigious playhouse, Shire. I know Mrs. Gwyn has put all her faith in me." She said politely as she looked down.

"Hmm, and not only her. John?"

The Earl stepped forward and gave a slow incline of his head, "Indeed, your Majesty. I have high hopes for Ms. Paige who is as lovely and kind as she seems. Trust me." He murmured and the King smiled.

"Excellent. I shall call upon you in the near future. I need to discuss a few things with you. Your opinion is valued among my court." The King released Chantal and she stepped back, just behind the Earl.

"I am at your service any time you want, Shire." The Earl said as he gave a bow and then stepped back.

The King nodded at him and then he walked away with Mrs. Gwyn.

Once the King and his footmen were out of the theatre, the Earl turned and searched for his servant. He beckoned him over and Alcock appeared in a flash.

"Me Lord?" he gave an inline of his head.

"Lead Ms. Paige to the carriage. I'll be there in a moment…And take the glass from her hand." He scowled and Alcock quickly nodded.

"Aye, sir. Come, madam." Alcock promptly grabbed the glass from her hand. He eyed it for a second and then downed the remnants of wine in one go. He slammed it on top of a passing tray and then motioned for Chantal to follow him.

She did so after she bid a quiet goodnight towards the gentlemen.

Once she stepped outside, she breathed in deeply. The deep breaths made her dizzier and she nearly stumbled.

"Oi!" Alcock grasped her arm and pushed her towards the carriage, "On your feet…How much did you drink?" He asked with a chuckle and she frowned.

"Two glasses…and a half." she shook her head, "I have a low tolerance for alcohol…It's like a condition." She smiled merrily and he snorted.

"I like you, Miss." He laughed as he helped her into the coach.

"I like you too…You don't hover." she murmured with a small smile, but then she cradled her head, "Oh my…" She winced as she was left alone.

She leaned back against the seat and placed her hands on her corseted waist. She felt breathless, stifled. She groaned and moved forward. As she did so, something at the corner of her eye grasped her attention despite her slightly inebriated state. Anne was standing by the entrance, a smirk on her face while the Earl was whispering something in her ear.

Chantal scowled and she curled her fingers over the laces. With a rough tug they loosened and she sighed. She plopped back against the seat and kicked off her shoes. They landed unceremoniously towards the opposite seat.

She closed her eyes and when the carriage was shaken by someone else's weight, she opened one eye.

"Ms. Paige?" Lord Rochester eyed her discarded shoes and flushed cheeks with a tiny frown, "Are you alright?" he pushed the shoes out of his way with his walking stick and then sat down.

Chantal swallowed, "I need water." She murmured and he smirked.

"Are you drunk?" he asked with amusement, but before she could reply he poked his head out of the carriage, "Find me some water. Now!"

Chantal licked her lips, "I cannot tolerate alcohol." She said honestly and he nodded with pursed lips.

"I can see that…" His eyes swept her form, but before he could really study her he was interrupted.

"Me Lord." A water flask was thrust inside and Rochester took it. He handed it to her and she took a few greedy sips.

He took the chance to study her figure and he laughed when he spotted her loosened dress.

"Feeling pressured?" He asked her, but she was in no mood for his teasing and charming comments.

"Now is not the time to make fun of me, my Lord." She murmured breathlessly and he stared at her.

"You're wrong. Now is the proper time."

"Why?"

"Because you won't remember half of it." He stated and she closed her eyes.

"I knew you were no gentleman." She murmured and his eyes widened minutely when she outstretched her legs and placed them upon his lap.

He quickly abandoned his cane and palmed her calves with his hands; to steady her or grope her, she wasn't sure and she was too dazed to actually care. She just wanted to sleep.

"I never claimed to be one." He told her with a smile as he watched her getting settled against the seat. She made quite a sight with her flushed cheeks, her loose blond curls framing her face and slightly puckered lips; a sign that she was just a breath away from falling asleep.

"Thank you…my Lord." She breathed before sleep claimed her.

The Earl watched her with amusement and he even chuckled when she let a snore escape her. His fingers gently rubbed her stocking clad legs and then he smirked.

He abandoned her legs and as the carriage lurched forward he fell onto his knees between the seats. His hands quickly bunched up the heavy skirts and he slipped his hand under her shift. He trailed his fingers downwards with some difficulty due to the corset and when he found the edge of her undergarments he paused.

He cocked an eyebrow when his finger got caught against something rough and uneven.

"So, you _were_ telling the truth…" He murmured as he fingered the scar on her belly. He had the urge to slip his hand further down and wake her up, but he didn't. He had enough respect not to do that, but enough cheek to investigate if she had been telling the truth or not. As subtly as he could, he removed his hand and righted her dress before he sat back. He replaced her feet upon his lap and let her sleep.

He looked outside of the window and let his mouth form a smirk. His mind drifted to the lovely redhead he had left behind, but it was soon, too soon to act on his primitive urge to just have her and be done with it. He had to wait. He was after all a patient man.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal walked down the stairs and cradled her head. It was pounding, throbbing with pain and she groaned softly.

"Bloody hell." She whispered and when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs she leaned against the banister for a few moments.

"Miss? Do you need anything?" Nellie's voice made her look up and she frowned.

"Um…I shall ask for some chamomile if there's any…My head feels awful…Why are you not with the child?" She asked and Nellie leaned closer.

"Did you not know? Mrs. Barry came today to visit. She is in the parlor with Beth right now." The nursemaid whispered and Chantal paused.

"Does the Earl know?" She asked and Nellie nodded.

"Aye, madam…But the child is on edge, constantly trying to move away from her mother's arms…She probably doesn't recognize her scent. It's a pity really. The Earl looks as if he's ready to explode and-…"

"I see. Thank you." Chantal cut her off with a small smile, "This is private, you understand? So, don't go eavesdropping next to the door."

Nellie flushed, "I wasn't…" she trailed off and at Chantal's cocked eyebrow she sighed, "Alright…I'll make you the chamomile. It's a nice day and you can take it outside." The maid suggested before she skipped away.

Chantal swallowed hard and took a deep breath. That was probably a good idea…She didn't _want_ to meet with the other actress.

Moving swiftly, she made her way for the door and stepped towards the garden. She smiled when she realized that it would be the perfect opportunity to see her horse and go through several plays in her head.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO o

"Come…Stay." She outstretched her hand and the stallion quickly munched on the piece of apple. Chantal smoothed a hand over his muzzle and smiled.

"Let's try again." She whispered and moved away. She placed the last piece of apple on her palm and waved her hand in a beckoning motion, "Come."

The stallion gave a soft whine and moved several steps towards her.

She grinned, "Good. Come closer." She crooned and the stallion obliged. When he was close she fed him the last piece and dropped a kiss to his forehead.

"Good boy." She murmured and sighed.

"Nellie! I won't call for you again!" The Earl's voice was loud and obviously irritated and Chantal looked at the house.

Nellie appeared from the garden and ran towards Rochester who scowled at her and waved her inside.

"Then escort Mrs. Barry. Alcock has disappeared again. Now." He hissed when the girl did not move. Nellie startled and did as she was told and Chantal knew it was a matter of time until he noticed her.

He paused when he saw her with the horse and then he smirked a little.

Chantal went pink when she realized why exactly he was smirking and looked away.

"Having a good time, madam? Do you find him more agreeable than me?" He called before he started approaching her.

"He is rather charming…" she called as she moved away from the horse and smoothed her hands over her skirt, "But you _must_ know that you do not lack charm, my Lord." She murmured and he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Is that a compliment? It must be the first one I've received…Aside from the thank you." He scowled a little as the sun fogged his vision and she frowned.

"I am sorry if that offended you…"

He paused, "You remember what happened last night? I am impressed…Do you remember everything?" He asked her curiously and she flushed.

"No…Not really." she muttered.

He grinned, "Good."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked with alarm, "Did I do something?"

He chuckled and reached out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, "No, madam. As always you were so charming and polite…The King himself is enthralled." He murmured and he took his time in moving his hand away.

Chantal swallowed thickly and blinked, "I did not offend him, did I? I remember talking to him adequately enough."

"True. In all honesty, I think you are rather charming when you have a drink or two…You seemed less…tense." His thumb trailed down her cheek, "I expect you to join me and my guest for a ride today, Ms. Paige." He said softly, but his eyes were glimmering.

"Guest?" she frowned, choosing to ignore the previous comment before she moved away from his invading finger.

He grinned, "Hmm."

"You invited Mrs. Barry?" she asked and he rolled his eyes.

"I am not suicidal, Chantal."

She shivered when he spoke her name. He didn't do it that often, but when he did it had an odd affect on her.

"Then who-…" She was cut off by Alcock's loud and obnoxious yell.

"Me Lord! There is a carriage coming!" He barked and Rochester groaned before he turned towards his servant.

Alcock ran up to them and waved his hands, "And Mrs. Barry is only just leaving." He was out of breath.

Chantal noticed the Earl's wicked twitch of the lips, "My Lord?" She murmured and he turned to her.

"Hmm?"

"What have you done?" She asked and he replied by lightly pinching her chin in an almost affectionate manner that had her reeling.

"I just made a statement." He told her as he pulled her forward so she could watch as the carriage arrived.

Chantal saw the back of Mrs. Barry's form and she could detect the woman's curiosity even from afar.

Elizabeth turned towards them and when she did the Earl chose that moment to trail his fingers over the back of Chantal's head.

Chantal glared at him, but when the carriage door opened and another woman stepped outside she froze.

Anne Gardor smoothed down her skirts and then briefly locked eyes with Barry. She gave a flick of her hair and promptly brushed past her.

"You're so…" Chantal whispered and he smirked, his hand now away from her head, trailing down her back instead.

"A little lesson in humility never hurt anyone." He murmured huskily as his eyes zeroed on the redhead.

Chantal watched as Barry entered her own coach without another backward glance and then she was off.

Ms. Gardor grinned, but her smile got less vibrant when she noticed that the Earl wasn't alone.

"Good morrow." She greeted politely, but her eyes were sharp.

"Ms. Gardor, welcome to Woodstock." Rochester moved away from Chantal and took Anne's hand. He kissed it and she smiled, but then she eyed Chantal.

"I thought we were going horseback riding today." She said curiously.

The Earl grinned, "Indeed. We shall give you a tour of the Park, won't we, Chantal?"

Chantal cleared her throat, "Good morning, madam. Welcome."

"How about some refreshments first? Come." He waved his hand towards the back garden and Ms. Gardor nodded her head, her eyes still on Chantal.

As Anne walked ahead, Chantal touched the Earl's arm gently, "What are you up to, my Lord? There are only two horses." She hissed and he grinned,

"Think, Ms. Paige." He murmured as he eyed her up and down, "You're supposedly my lover…Do the sum. You're intelligent. " He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her forehead and Chantal felt the burning gaze of Anne's green eyes as he did so.

When he pulled away and trailed after the other woman she had no other option but follow him. As she glared at his back, she realized that she'd have to ride with him; upon the same horse. Wonderful.

**End of chapter 8**

**Author' note: Liked it, hated it? Nevertheless, thank you for reading. Comments anyone? Your feedback feeds this penniless author…Like, seriously! :p**

***Info: Thomas Otway was a famous playwright. He is mentioned in the film. So was John Dryden.**

**Sir Christopher Wren was a great English architect who built most of London's houses, churches and other establishments after the Great Fire destroyed most of the city in 1666. He also worked on modernizing Hampton Court Palace.**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! How are you all? I want to send a very heartfelt thank you hug to: dionne dance, CharlieCats, TinkerbellxO, XantheXV,****MissMisc3, ForeverACharmedOne, Newland Archer, flow3rchild and Leyshla Gisel.**

**You are all wonderful and I cannot thank you enough.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_**Let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.**_

_**Let me be happy; let me be sad.**_

_**Let me cold; let me be warm.**_

_**Let me be hungry…have too much to eat.**_

_**Let me be ragged or well dressed.**_

_**Let me be sincere-be deceitful.**_

_**Let me truthful; let me be a liar.**_

_**Let me be honorable and let me sin.**_

_**Only let me be something every blessed minute.**_

_**And when I sleep, let me dream all the time, so that not one**_

_**Little piece of living is ever lost!**_

_**~Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn**_

The green eyes of Ms. Gardor focused on them and Chantal tried her hardest not to look restless. She fought not to lean back against the warmth of the man behind her. She tried not to give in to his gentle and provoking petting. She tried not to look as if it was the first time he touched her in such a manner.

"Why, my Lord." Ms. Gardor started as they took the path that led back to Woodstock Manor, "It seems to me that you have the best horse. Much stronger than this." She shook the reins of her own stallion a bit and the Earl turned to look at the redhead, his hair brushing against Chantal's cheek as he did so.

"Of course, madam." He said and Chantal managed to ignore how his arms brushed against her chest as he tugged on the reins, "The horse you're riding is mine. Now this one," he reached out with a gloved hand and patted Chantal's trotting horse, "Is Ms. Paige's. He has to be strong. You ladies wear so many skirts." He remarked and Chantal turned to look at him. He smirked at her and she shook her head a little.

"But it's not only that." Ms. Gardor continued, "It's prettier."

"You mean more handsome. He is a boy after all." Chantal spoke up and two pairs of eyes fell upon her.

She smiled at the other woman, "He won't appreciate you calling him pretty." Her hand gently brushed over the horse's mane and Ms. Gardor offered a tight lipped smile.'

"Hmm. Do you ride, Ms. Chantal?" Anne asked and Chantal nodded.

"Yes…but not a lot lately." She replied and the Earl chose that moment to hand her one side of the reins. She took it without looking at him and she felt his chest brushing against her back as he exhaled. His hand found its way upon her hip and she tried not to give it much thought.

"Why not?" Anne asked as she eyed the Earl's hand upon Chantal's hip with intensity.

"Unlike some of my class, I actually had to fight for my food, Ms. Gardor." Chantal turned her head to watch the other woman, "I had no time for vacation in Paris."

Ms. Gardor's eyes narrowed and she felt the Earl's fingers tightening around her hip in response. She had no idea what the gesture meant, but she didn't care. She had long ago realized the purpose of the woman's visit.

"Pray, what kind of jobs did you have to do?" Ms. Gardor asked and Chantal smiled a little.

"Anything really." she replied elusively and the Earl chuckled.

"Not anything." he murmured, "Yes, Chantal?" His lips brushed over her ear and she forced a smile.

"Indeed."

"Well, I appreciate a woman who does anything to survive." Anne announced and Chantal kept her eyes forward, "I suppose I was just lucky, yes?"

Chantal gave a small nod, "Some of us are a little more or less lucky, madam. We just have to accept it."

The Earl's nails dug into her hip and she pushed back against him in retaliation. He gave a barely audible groan and snaked his arm around her waist instead. She swallowed hard and gave a tiny glance towards his sneaky hand.

"What's his name?" Ms. Gardor asked, pointing at the horse,

Chantal smirked, "I named him Earl." She replied and she felt the man behind her tensing up, "He is after all, just as handsome, yes?"

Ms. Gardor cleared her throat, "What a name. You must be very happy, my Lord." She glanced at Rochester who was already smirking.

"Indeed." Without another word, he grasped the horse's reins out of Chantal's hand and commanded the horse into a quick gallop that took both women by surprise.

In a matter of minutes they arrived back at the manor and the Earl quickly dismounted his horse and offered his hand to Chantal. She took it and he helped her down by unnecessarily wrapping and arm around her waist. His eyes locked with hers and she was momentarily lost in his stormy brown gaze. His mouth twitched and in a quick, abrupt movement he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She inhaled through her nose sharply and her hands tightened around his arms out of reflex. When his tongue tried to reach her own, she placed a hand against his lower stomach and pushed him back.

"My Lord." She muttered a little breathlessly and he stared at her before he released her and turned to assist the other woman.

"Forgive me." he said with a crooked grin as he offered Anne his hand, "I had to thank the lady for her compliment, yes?" He licked his lips and Anne shot an unfathomable look towards Chantal who had her head turned away.

"Of course. Your ardor is almost… adorable." She replied at last as she took his hand and jumped down from the horse.

Rochester inclined his head and motioned for the stable boy to take the horses away.

"Will you stay for dinner?" He asked as he gently took Chantal's arm, but she pulled it away.

"Excuse me. I'm thirsty." She gave a bow and walked ahead of them quickly, softly placing a hand over her lips. He was making it a habit! What did he want to prove?

She arrived at the back porch and Alcock was already waiting there with a tray of water and wine.

"Alright, madam?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I thought you were on my side, Alcock." She muttered as she took a glass of water and took a sip.

"Oh, but I am. Thus the smirk, my lady." He replied and she shot him a tiny smile, "There's a letter for you." He slipped his hand inside his pocket and handed her a letter, "It only just arrived."

Chantal eyed it, but she knew she shouldn't open it right then. It was from Betterton. She took a deep breath and hid it in her dress before she turned to look at the Earl and his guest. She had an idea of what the theatre manager wanted…

Rochester waved his hand at the tray, "Water or wine?" He offered and Chantal took another sip to hide her frown.

"A little wine would be nice." Ms. Gardor said with a sparkle in her eye.

Rochester grinned at her and quickly removed his gloves and placed them in his pockets before he reached for the bottle. He poured wine to a second glass and with a brief glance at Chantal he handed a glass to Anne. She took it with a tiny smirk, but then her eyes were suddenly drawn to his hands.

Chantal pulled the water glass away and eyed the redhead, curious of her response.

"Oh my…" Anne murmured as she took the wine, but kept her eyes on the Earl's hand.

He frowned and looked at his hand before he went very still. The small oval scars that were still tainting his skin were visible and they had obviously taken Ms. Gardor by surprise. Chantal blinked in confusion. The woman was looking at them- no, staring at them-with blatant apprehension. Chantal could already see the thoughts in her head.

_Isn't she fearful of close contact? What if he's not fully recovered? How can she let him kiss her?_

"Some scars never heal, Ms. Gardor." Chantal spoke up and put the glass away, "Some are visible and some are not." She smiled in order to soften the blow of her words and Anne looked up, finally looking away from Rochester's hand.

"Indeed…" she murmured and then turned to him, "Do they hurt, my Lord? If you don't mind my asking." She forced a small smile, but the damage had already been done. Rochester was looking at her oddly.

"I assure you, madam, they do not. Thank you for your concern." He said ever so softly and Chantal could detect the irony in his words. The other woman was not as familiar with his voice and she smiled widely, foolishly thinking that her slip of tongue was already forgotten.

"I am glad." Anne took a sip from her wine and Rochester turned towards Chantal, staring at her, before he downed his drink quickly and slapped the glass hard against the tray. Alcock winced and held onto the tray more firmly. Luckily nothing slipped off the surface.

Chantal eyed Anne who was staring at the gardens and gently shook her head.

The woman had no tact. She had managed to wound Rochester's ego by commenting on the one thing he was most sensitive about; his past illness.

The Earl remained still for a few seconds before he abruptly turned towards Anne.

"Forgive me, but I have a few matters to attend to. It was great having you here, madam." He gave a small incline of his head and Anne looked at him with surprise.

"Thank you for having me…Is something wrong?" She asked as she put the glass away and looked at Chantal who had her gaze averted.

Rochester offered her a blank stare, "Nothing that has anything to do with you, madam. I assure you. Good day." He turned on his heel and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him.

Ms. Gardor walked closer to Chantal.

"I hope my curiosity did not offend him." She said with obvious surprise and Chantal looked up, forcing a smile on her face.

"No, madam. The Earl of Rochester doesn't get offended." She replied quietly and Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

_No, he doesn't get offended. He gets wounded like any human being with scars that speak of his past deeds._

"You would know…" Anne murmured and then added, "Thank God, for I had no wish to offend his Lordship. Well, I must be going then." she said with a wide grin. "You are very lucky, Ms. Paige. This is a wonderful house."

Chantal inclined her head, "Indeed."

"I do hope you join us at Theatre Royal. Now that Mrs. Gwyn is leaving I need a friend." Anne grinned almost wolfishly.

Chantal cleared her throat, "I hope that too. Only time will tell. Shall I escort you out?" She offered softly, but Anne shook her head and motioned at Alcock.

"He can. No?" She blinked innocently and Chantal turned to look at the servant who narrowed his eyes briefly and then put away the slightly cracked tray.

"My lady." He waved his hand towards the driveway and Anne grinned before she turned and made her way towards the awaiting carriage.

Chantal watched her go while shaking her head.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Where is the wet-nurse?" His voice startled her and she looked up, quickly placing a finger over her lips.

"Hush, my Lord. I just managed to make her sleep." Chantal whispered and his eyes focused on the baby in her arms before he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

"Go and find her. We have work to do." He looked up, "Now, Ms. Paige." He almost hissed and she slowly stood. She hesitated before she walked over to him. She handed him Beth without even asking and his eyes widened.

"Ms. Paige." He ground out.

"I have to get Nellie. Your command, my Lord. Who am I not to obey?" She blinked innocently at him and he narrowed his eyes as he cradled the baby's head in his palm.

"Are you afraid she'll miss my scent, madam?" He murmured and she tilted her head to the side.

"Indeed, my Lord. You know so much about children and yet you do not use the knowledge for your benefit." She remarked softly.

"Are you trying to manipulate me, Chantal? Using the child won't work. Even if I do hold quite a sensitivity for your matter." His eyes swept her form and she frowned.

"I beg your pardon? I am only trying to point out things to you...Like you do to me." She stepped back and bowed her head, "My Lord." She turned on her heel and walked out of the chamber with a tiny smile upon her face.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You are late, my Lord." She smiled a little and twirled a quill around her fingers as he made his way inside his study.

"Do not patronize me, madam. I have no time or the proper mood for it." he muttered as he took a seat and reached for a pack of papers, "This came in from Mr. Killigrew." he slid it towards her and she blinked, "You have to choose any part you like."

Chantal's eyes widened, "Juliet?" she whispered, "That's the role?"

Rochester nodded his head, "Indeed. I want you to read it, choose a scene and then come to me. We have to practice it, for you're going to perform your skills in Mr. Killigrew's presence. "

She suddenly couldn't breathe, "Do we know when?" She asked as she gazed up at him with wide eyes.

He cocked his head to the side and regarded her coolly, "I won't accept fear, Ms. Paige." He suddenly stood up and walked around the desk towards her. He grabbed the arms of her chair and turned her around sharply, the wooden legs of the chair screeching obnoxiously over the marble floor.

He leaned down to her and locked eyes with her, "I won't accept failure either." he murmured as his eyes studied her suddenly pale face, "We need to work on your confidence and I know just how. But not yet." he placed a finger on the play, "Go through it. _Carefully_. Choose a scene and let me know. The audition is not due for another two weeks. We have time. I think you shall find this revised text much better. Sir Davenant has done quite an excellent job in making the characters more vivid." He paused and eyed her skirts before he slipped his hand towards them.

Chantal made a grab for his hand, but he was too quick for her reflexes. His fingers curled around the still unopened letter and he smirked at her.

"How did you…?" She whispered and he grinned at her, his lips forming a sly smile that had her head reeling.

"Ms. Paige…_Chantal_, you think I don't know what is going on under my own roof? I know everything. Everything." He sat back on his haunches and placed his hand on her lap to steady himself while he gazed at the letter with curiosity.

"Why did you not open it?" He asked her ever so softly and she gulped.

"Because…Because I was afraid." She replied equally softly.

"Afraid of what?" his tone was filled with reproach, "Answer the question." He narrowed his eyes in warning and she licked her suddenly dry lips.

"Because I know he wants to see me. He must have heard of my visit at Theatre Royal…He probably wants to dismiss me because he knows I am favoring Mr. Killigrew."

Rochester nodded, "As you should."

"My Lord, you don't understand. If they dismiss me from Duke's what will happen then? Let us say that I don't succeed in Theatre Royal. I won't have a placement." She shook her head, "For how long will I rely on your charity?"

He pursed his mouth and tapped the letter against his lower lip in thought, "For as long as you need it… Indefinitely is the right word." he suddenly stood, "In all honesty, Ms. Paige, this charity you speak of is all your own success. The King is favoring us because of his high hopes for your talent. He won't stop supporting you if you don't fail. And you won't."

"You mean he won't stop favoring you …How long will this farce go on?" She gestured between them and he smirked.

"Madam, I fear you do not understand what is happening." He leaned down and while he did so, he broke the letter's seal, "It won't ever stop. If you succeed you'll be as high in society as I am. You shall be the King's favorite actress. His most favorite pet because you shall bring glory and beauty upon his court. Something that Mrs. Barry couldn't possibly achieve. I won't let you escape. And I don't care of what means I have to use in order to achieve that."

She inhaled sharply, "You're obviously jesting." She whispered.

"I never jest." He straightened.

"And if I fail?" She challenged.

"Then you have to stand again. We fell down, only to rise up high again." He said as his eyes read quickly through the letter's lines.

Chantal studied him as he had his gaze focused on the written lines and then looked away. His words were always confusing her.

_I don't care of what means… _That sentence alone was so elusive…so vague that it could have a lot of meanings.

"Mr. Betterton wants to see you in his theatre," his voice broke her thoughts, "If you don't go, he will take it as your blatant desire to be released from your duties…What shall you do?" He cocked an eyebrow in challenge and she stared at him with irk before she sighed and placed her chin in her palm.

"I shall do what you wish me to do." she replied, "But I don't have to like it." She stood and took the play with her.

Rochester smirked and tore the letter in two before he threw it on his desk carelessly.

"I won't force you to like it." he told her as he took a step closer and grasped her chin, "But I will force you to make me proud." His eyes stared hard into hers and she inhaled deeply, "Do you trust me, Ms. Paige?" he murmured quietly, "Am I too much for you to handle?"

She blinked, "I trust you because I know you're doing this for your own sake as well. That is why I have to trust you, my Lord." She reached up and took hold of his hand. His eyes flickered towards her fingers before they returned to her face.

"But something tells me that you don't want to _just_ be in the King's good graces…Something tells me that you crave revenge. Is that why you're using me?" She whispered and his fingers flexed under her hand, his knuckles tensing before he turned his hand and threaded his fingers through hers in such an intimate way that had her head spinning.

"You…" he started as he narrowed his eyes and then locked his smoldering dark gaze on her face, "You remind me of someone, Ms. Paige." He murmured and she frowned, "Someone I pray to the God that I don't believe in that I won't ever forget." he leaned closer and his breath fell upon her lips like a lover's caress, "Your success will be my revenge, Chantal. Now," he breathed in deeply and stepped back, "do as I said." He pulled away and she let his hand slip from hers as he headed for the large window and stared out of it.

"You may leave." He murmured and she did just that.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal smiled politely at the two people across from her. The Earl of Dorset was sitting next to Mrs. Gwyn and he was staring at his glass of wine with a critical eye.

"Very good selection." Lord Sackville started and Chantal gave a tiny shrug.

"I know nothing about wines, my Lord."

"Me neither. But I enjoy them all the same." Mrs. Gwyn laughed and Chantal smiled at her widely.

"I can imagine that, but not in your condition, yes?" She pointed out and the other woman gently patted her belly.

"Of course not…Where is Lord Rochester? We both wanted to congratulate him on his success. I hear Mr. Killigrew wants to see you." She said with bright eyes and Chantal nodded.

"Indeed, he does…I am not sure where the Earl is…Um…I should go and see. Last time I saw him, he was in his chamber." She stood and bowed her head before she walked out of the parlor.

She walked up the large staircase and there she met Alcock.

"Is he coming? They are waiting-…'

"He is not in a position to receive guests." Alcock quickly shook his head at her and tried to maneuver her towards the stairs again.

"Why ever not?" she whispered with confusion.

"He's pissed. One of the bottles barely missed me head. Let's go."

She huffed and pushed his hands away, "Fine. Then let them know he is asleep."

"Asleep? They won't believe that. It's barely seven." Alcock snorted.

"Then tell them the truth…They will believe it. They know him, right?" she walked around him and his eyes widened.

"What are you doing?" He hissed and she tensed up.

Chantal paused at the door. True. What _was_ she doing? She shouldn't go in there.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the door handle and spoke, "I am going to see if he needs anything." She murmured and then walked straight in.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She took a seat next to him on the settee that is facing the fireplace, but remained silent. His gaze was focused on the flickering flames and his fingers were tightly wrapped around a glass.

"Is it so good?" She asked him after a while, encouraged by the fact that he did not order her out of the room. She was actually surprised.

"What?" He murmured and she looked at the almost empty bottle.

"The wine."

"The best in London." He outstretched his hand with the glass towards her, blatantly offering her the drink.

She eyed it and then reached out to take it. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a tiny frown, and when she actually took a sip from the same glass his lip curled.

"Well?" He asked her sharply and she swallowed.

"I've no idea…" She handed it back to him, but he didn't take it. Instead, he reached down for the bottle and filled the glass to the brim. He looked up into her eyes, silently challenging her to drink more and she smiled.

"Are you trying to frighten me into compliance with that look, my Lord?" She asked as she took another brave sip.

He sneered, "Are you trying to cajole me with your kindness?" He shot back and she took a deep breath.

"No…I wish to know what ails you. Your friends are here-…"

"Friends? I have no friends, Chantal." he murmured with a tiny slur and she looked at him, "Affairs of convenience I would call them." He muttered as he took a generous sip from the bottle.

Chantal twirled the glass in her hands a little.

"I know why you invited Ms. Gardor here…" She started and then looked at him. His gaze was fixated on the fireplace once again.

"Pray tell…" He muttered with a scowl.

"You wanted to show her that yes; I have a lover, but I am willing to have you as well. That would not shake _my_ position next to you…" she paused, "You are fascinated with her." She murmured and he slammed his head hard against the back of the settee before he replied.

"Fascinated? Indeed…" He turned his body towards her and waved his hand a little, "Now all I want is to make her pay for her ignorance. Too bad I am healthy. I'd love to taint her with my _scars_." His voice was hoarse.

Chantal swallowed thickly, "That is mean of you, my Lord. You must excuse ignorance." She said softly.

"Must I excuse lack of manners too?" he asked her and then sneered, "The bloody wench…Did you see how she froze at the sight of them?" he gazed at his hand, "She probably still wonders if it's worth the risk." He smirked evilly.

"I don't understand…" Chantal started putting the glass away.

"Drink it." He turned and pinned her with a heated stare, "If you're going to stay here, you have to drink."

Chantal smiled a little, "Are you always this insistent while drunk, my Lord?" She asked as she kept the glass in her hand.

"Are you always so obnoxiously soft when worrying?" He remarked cruelly and she chuckled.

"Only towards my tutor." She muttered and then shook her head, "I can leave-…"

His hand clamped down hard on her wrist and she gasped, "You're just like her. Humoring me when you want something done…When you care." His fingers dug in her skin, "I despised it." he snarled, but then his gaze softened, "And I craved it all the same." he cocked his head to the side and studied her, "You're just like her."

Chantal frowned and sat back, "My Lord?"

He pointed a finger at her and turned onto his side so that he faced her fully, "Elizabeth…You possess the same alarmingly disastrous disposition..." he replied with a scowl, "Only yours is more obvious…more heated." His eyes swept her face and then slipped lower, "I like it, Chantal."

She gently pulled her hand away, "My Lord…I might take your words as praise." She tried to keep her voice light, but his gaze was heavy and dark.

"I want it." he murmured as his hand curled around her skirt and he used it as leverage to move closer, "I've missed it." His cheek found the top of her breast as he laid his head on her collarbone.

She put the glass away and at her movement he leaned further into her. She inhaled sharply when she felt his breath on her skin, warm and moist.

"It is very understandable to miss your wife, my Lord." She whispered as she swallowed hard and looked down at him, "It would be unrealistic if you didn't."

"From you words…" he started and his lips brushed over her skin as he did so, "I gather that you link marriage with love." She watched as he blinked and stared right ahead and into the flames.

"I would like to think that there is such a possibility." she ventured slowly, "You think it foolish of me?"

He let out a long breath, "Not foolish…Just highly hopeful." He muttered and looked down at his hand again.

Chantal followed his gaze and then her eyes caught sight of his nightstand.

"I think you've just been neglectful." She said quietly as she moved out from under him.

He groaned as she left and made a futile grab for her skirt.

"Chantal." His voice was a murmured warning, but she simply picked up the small bottle from his nightstand and walked back to him.

She waved it in front of his face and he sneered.

"That."

"Hmm." She sat down next to him and picked up his hand. The small scars were barely visible through the ink that was staining his skin.

"Sandalwood oil. Remember? You told me that it does miracles." She uncorked the bottle and took a whiff. She smiled and looked at him.

"Obviously not." He muttered with a roll of his eyes, but when she started applying it on his skin he let her all the same.

"Have a little faith, my Lord." she murmured as she rubbed the ointment to his skin, "It smells lovely." She looked up and found him staring at her oddly.

"Ms. Gardor has high expectations." He told her abruptly.

"Oh?" She continued with his other hand.

"She doesn't care of wealth…not really." he shook his head lazily, "No…she wants the title."

Chantal paused and he seized the chance to grasp her chin in his sweet scented hand.

"Title?"

His eyes lingered on her lips before he smirked, "She wants to be the next Countess of Rochester…I think that she should just keep dreaming." He murmured with a dark chuckle.

"It seems to me that she likes you, my Lord-…"

"No, Chantal." He leaned up and pulled his face closer to hers.

She stilled.

"She likes my reputation. She doesn't know how I can be. But by the time I am done, she shall have full knowledge of how _attentive_ I can be." He smirked at her and she was momentarily shocked at the sly look in his eyes.

"My Lord…she is one of the King's favorite-…"

"No, _my darling_." he cut her off as his thumb slid sensually over her mouth, "I am the King's favorite right now. You know why?" His eyes were glimmering with confidence and she sighed.

"Why?"

"Because only I can accomplish his vanity... I and I alone. And the mean to achieve that is you."

She stopped rubbing his skin with the oil and he grasped her neck in a gentle, but firm grip.

"We all know how Louis is flaunting his success in everything. Art, war, politics…fornication. Well, I have to help our monarch regain part of his self esteem. He is after all rather dull on his own." His voice was a low hiss and she took a deep breath.

"I hope your over-confidence is not contagious." She muttered and his lips curled into one of his infamous smirks.

"You want try and find out?" His breath danced over her lips and chin as he spoke and she looked at him through half lidded eyes, slightly looming over him in that position.

His eyes didn't stray from hers as he brushed his lips against her mouth without actually applying any pressure. His hands slipped from her face and came to rest heavily on her waist as he kept up his gentle teasing.

"What do you want from me, my Lord?" She murmured against his mouth and he slipped his lower lip between her lips before he proceeded to suck on her upper lip slowly.

She moved her head back and stared at him with wide eyes and he blinked drowsily before he replied.

"I trust you, Chantal." Her nostrils were filled with his scent and her eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth for a few moments before she placed a hand on his chest.

"Pray that I continue to do so. Don't betray me or I won't care of how much fondness I have for you. Abide by my rules and you shall see how kind I can be when I want to." His tone had an obvious warning in it and his eyes were impossibly dark in their intensity.

"You have been kind to me…In your own way…But I do not understand the intimacy you're showing-…"

"Then you're not _listening_. Listen and you shall understand." He hissed and she narrowed her eyes.

"I am not your wife, my Lord." she whispered and his eyes flashed with a foreign emotion, "Are you sure that you want the comfort that I am not even sure I can provide?" She murmured as she reached up and pushed a lock of his hair away from his slightly flushed cheek. She could see beads of sweat gathering on his forehead from all the alcohol that was already flowing in his blood.

"Are you sure you weren't trying to provide it just now?" He pulled the small oil bottle from her hand and threw it away. It fell on the carpet by her feet.

Chantal had no reply to that. She couldn't argue nor agree with his words. She wasn't even sure why on earth she had come into his chamber in the first place. Perhaps she was out of her wits after all. Perhaps she was getting too comfortable around him and it was dangerous.

Using her silence to his advantage, he pulled her to him, slipping lower down the settee as he did so, until he had her on her back. His hands brushed her sides and he grabbed hold of her legs. He pulled them on the cushions and then leaned down, propping his head on his elbow and looking down upon her with hooded eyes. His finger traced the bone of her nose and then he leaned towards her. His lips fell upon her mouth without sensual urgency and when he nuzzled the skin of her cheek with his nose, her breath hitched. His head found the cushion by her neck and when she looked down at him she realized that he had fallen into a light slumber.

Blinking away the confusion, she stared at the ceiling, wondering if she should be flattered or bothered by his obvious desire for having her as his confidant rather than his lover…Or maybe he wanted both…And maybe he expected both…Maybe she would prove that she could provide neither…

'_**Women have always been the strong ones of the world.**_

_**The men are always seeking from a woman a little pillow to put their heads on.**_

_**They are always longing for the mother who held them as infants.'**_

_**~Coco Chanel**_

**End of chapter 9**

**Author's note: Ahem, thank you for reading. A little more character development here so, I hope you don't think this chapter as a filler one because it is full of hints for things to come…Can you locate them? The scene with Anne has a few-…Okay, I am stopping! :p**

**So, liked it? Hated it? Please let me know. Reviews feed the muse.**

**Also April 10****th**** is John Wilmot's birthday and I only just noticed that I am posting this a day before that date…Huh. Coincidence…**

**Anyway, some info: William Davenant was one of the first people to revise Shakespeare's **_**Romeo and Juliet**_** during the English Restoration…His revised text was used by all the theatres of that time.**

**Also, which scene do you think Chantal might use for her audition? Any ideas/suggestions?**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Welcome back! I want to thank: MissMisc3, XantheXV, lottielovebuzz, Newland Archer, ForeverACharmedOne, dionne dance, Jay D. Moore, TinkerbellxO, PGAEmma and Leyshla Gisel.**

**You are all amazing for sticking with me.**

**Now, on with the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

_***Dedicated to TinkerbellxO, because she's had a rough couple of weeks…***_

**Chapter 10**

'_**The lust for comfort; that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master.'**_

_**~Khalil Gibran**_

"_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;__Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.__What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part__ belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee take all myself." _Chantal paused and her eyes moved away from the text. Her gaze fell on the man who was sitting silently in the settee, play in hand and eyes on the text.

She cleared her throat and he looked up at her, his right eyebrow cocked in query.

"My Lord?" she asked timidly and he cocked his head to the side.

"Why did you stop?" He asked her and she blinked rapidly.

"Um…what?"

"Why did you stop, Chantal?"

She tensed at the way he spoke her name. It had been two days since he had stopped calling her by her last name. It was still a novelty when it came from him. There was a certain way with which he called her name that made her fidget like mad every time he uttered it.

"My lines are over." She replied and he pursed his lips.

"Perhaps I did not make myself clear earlier." He swung his legs off the settee and his boots thudded loudly on the floor as he crossed the room to her, "I said, we shall practice the scene. Practice means repeating the lines over and over again, until you no longer have to look at them from here." He slapped a hand against the cover of her text and she jumped, "Am I clear?" He murmured quietly and she swallowed hard.

"Won't you help me with Romeo's lines then-…"

"I said, am I clear?" He cut her off through gritted teeth and she narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, my Lord." She muttered and he nodded.

"Good. Now, do it again." He pulled back and came to lean against the window, "And you shall face the mirror." He pointed towards the full body mirror across from her and she sighed.

"Why must I? It's bad enough that you have to stand here all the time while I practice." She snapped and he sneered.

"Complain about it again, and I'll have you deliver the speech naked." He threatened and her head turned sharply towards him.

"I beg your pardon?" She whispered and he smirked.

"You heard me. Now, get on with it."

"I can't when you order me like that!" She shook the play and he blinked innocently.

"Oh? Shall I wait and see when the mood strikes you then?"

Chantal closed her eyes and faced away from him, "Fine." She muttered as she tried very hard to ignore the way his eyes burned holes in her skin.

She took a breath and then started over, "_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part__ belonging to a man_. .."

"Stop. Start over." His voice cut her off and she turned to look at him.

"You're doing this to annoy me." She informed him with a hand on her hip and he snarled.

"Chantal! Do it again or you won't leave this room until midnight." His words were a hiss of fierce command and she clenched her teeth as she stared at him. He was relentless.

"_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;__thou art thyself, though not a Montague.__  
__What's Montague? It-…"_

"Again. Wait, let your hair down." He stopped her again and she tightened her hold around the play until her knuckles turned white.

He ignored her irritation and opened the French doors instead, letting the cool breeze enter the study. She shivered and when he turned to her again, she reached up and pulled the ribbon away from her hair. Her locks fell over her shoulders and moved with the breeze.

"Maybe we should do this in the balcony." She muttered as she tied the ribbon around her wrist and looked at him from out of the corner of her eye.

He narrowed his eyes at her and she sighed, "If looks could kill, my Lord."

"Chantal…" he warned in a deep drawl and she smirked a little, "The option of having you deliver the lines naked seems more and more tempting right now…" He told her sharply and she straightened.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord." She cleared her throat and offered a charming smile to appease him. She didn't know if it worked, because his face didn't change and she suddenly felt like a fool.

She ignored the blush on her cheeks because in times like this he didn't allow any familiarity. Of course.

"_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague.__What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,__nor arm, nor face, nor any other part__ belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so-…"_

"Stop. Do it again." He cut her off near the end and she didn't look at him this time. She simply started over and she didn't stop until he cut her off again and again. She didn't face away from the mirror and when his hand suddenly reached out and plucked the play from her hand she gasped.

"My Lord!"

He shut the book and leaned against the window, a small smirk on his face.

"_I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo." _He delivered the lines quietly and she placed her hands on her hips.

"I want my text back."

"I fear, I must keep your security blanket. And for your cheek, you shall repeat the monologue again. Twice. Begin." He told her casually as he gently, but rhythmically tapped the play against his thigh.

Chantal sputtered and his smirk deepened as his eyes shone slyly.

_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,__Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part __belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee take all myself."_

As she finished the speech twice, she waited patiently and he didn't disappoint.

"_I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo."_

She didn't fail to notice that he was delivering the lines by heart. Could he be any more focused than he already was? She doubted it.

"_What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel?"_ She replied in a strong voice and Rochester chuckled.

She turned and looked at him with surprise, "Did I make a mistake?"

"Yes, you did not look at me. Is Juliet blind, my pet?" He asked her with sarcasm and she bit the inside of her cheek hard.

"You told me not to face away from the mirror." She defended and he clicked his tongue.

"Not when you're interacting with other characters. Now, ask again." He enunciated the last sentence as if speaking to a child and she tried, but failed not to roll her eyes.

"Do it again and you shall start losing clothing." His voice was slightly amused, but held a dark edge to it.

"That is just childish! You wouldn't have me deliver the lines naked! It's Shakespeare!" She exploded and she didn't even see him pushing away from the window.

His hands curled around her waist and he turned her around forcefully. His fingers hooked on the laces of her dress and she panicked.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" she screeched, "My Lord, please!"

His hands disappeared from her and his laughter rang in her ears as she turned to face him.

"That's not funny or amusing!" She gasped and he still laughed on.

"Oh, but it is. It is." He covered his eyes with his hand as he chuckled and then backed away, "Alright, alright. Calm down, woman. You're as red as a monkey's ass." He pointed a finger at her and she flushed even more.

"My Lord! Have you no shame? And fix my dress!" She exclaimed and he let out another hoarse chuckle before he walked over and righted the knot.

His hands touched her shoulders and she stiffened, but he simply rubbed the skin there and briefly nuzzled her ear before he stepped back.

"Apologies. But if you don't do as I say, I will have you arse naked while you deliver…Oh, the joy." He groaned a little and walked around to face her.

"You should be ashamed." She muttered as she reached forward, ready to pluck the play from his hand.

"Ah, ah! Tsk, tsk. What did I say? Let us continue." He pulled it away from her reach and she grimaced.

"_What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night, so stumblest on my counsel?" _She spat the words and he laughed again.

"_By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word."_ He sounded dead serious as he spoke and she calmed down a little.

The scene had always stirred a flutter in her insides. The words were beautiful even when they came from his debauched mouth…Perhaps they were even more beautiful because they were coming from him.

"_My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?"_ She called, trying to sound a little breathless and very hopeful.

When he continued with a calm face and did not spit another insult she knew she had succeeded. She almost smiled in triumph.

"_Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike."_

He waved his fingers, rolling them in the air as he motioned her to continue with her speech.

"_How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here."_

Chantal tried not to forget any line or pause and when he took a look at the text and continued, she knew she had gotten it right.

"_With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;"_ His eyes locked with hers and he smirked as he continued, obviously finding the words amusing, "_For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me."_

"_If they do see thee, they will murder thee."_

"Good…" he murmured and then scanned the play, "Let us proceed with the scene…You have no problem delivering short lines." He raised his eyes and glared at her, "What is it with you and monologues?" He asked her and she nervously wrung her hands.

"Well, I know the words…but I fear I will forget them. That causes me to stumble over the lines and-…"

"And you mangle the speech." He finished for her and she gave a tiny nod, "Let us go over Juliet's longer speech now. Do you remember it?"

"The same scene-…"

"Of course." He hissed and Chantal nodded quickly.

"We shall see…" he muttered and cleared his throat, "_By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise."_ His eyes returned onto her face and she prayed she wouldn't forget a line.

"_Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face; else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, for that which thou hast heard me speak would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' and I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, then say, Jove laughs… If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully-…"_

"Stop, stop. You forgot a line." The Earl cut her off while shaking his head, "Why are you stumbling over the words?" He asked her as he walked over to her and thrust the text in her hands.

Chantal bit her lip, "It is long and I have never practiced it before-…"

"No excuses! I won't allow them. I bet that if I weren't here watching you, you'd have no problem saying the speech." His voice gained volume and she winced.

"I told you I needed the text-…"

"You shouldn't _need_ the text! I know you've studied the scene for two days. You barely slept. So, why are you scrambling the words?" His breath was hot on her face as he spoke and she gulped.

"I don't know."

"You _must_ know!" He closed his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth before he pointed at the speech, "Do it again. Once while looking at the lines and once without the text. Now." He stepped back and turned his back on her.

Chantal took a deep breath and the words left her mouth before she could stop herself, "I bet you never had this problem with Mrs. Barry." She muttered and he stilled.

"What?"

She winced and shook her head, "Nothing."

"No, no." He turned to her and narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp, biting, "Repeat that."

Chantal raised her chin, "I said you surely didn't have this problem with Mrs. Barry." She repeated and his nostrils flared.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with you…" he murmured in a low, deadly quiet voice, "Would you by any chance want to be Mrs. Barry?" He cocked a single eyebrow and she frowned.

"No."

"Because it seems to me that instead of focusing on others, you should focus on you. Tell me, Chantal." He walked up to her, "Do you want to be famous for your talent, or for your inability to form words upon the stage? Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side, his eyes expectant and his lips pursed in that particular way of his.

She cursed herself for being momentarily distracted by his features.

"My acting, of course." She replied at last.

"Why, but of course." He drawled dryly, "But you do have a difference when compared to Mrs. Barry."

"And what is that?" she asked and he looked at her up and down, "I don't have a talent?"

He snorted, "No, my dear. The difference between you and her is that she'd be more obliged and less reluctant to offer her slit to any willing patron…That alone is a feat." He stepped back.

"You think it a feat to be able to submit to men in that way?" Chantal asked and he shook his head.

"No, madam. I find it a feat to be able to succeed in both fields." He replied and she froze.

"Correct me if I am wrong, my Lord, but I do not think it a great accomplishment to be able to bring pleasure to a man. That is only natural and instinctive."

"Is it?" He blinked as his mouth twitched with glee, "So is acting." He pointed a finger at her, "Continue."

Chantal looked at him as if he was insane, "You expect me to carry on when you have just called me a whore?"

Rochester covered his face with his hands, "When did I call you a whore, Chantal? I was counting the differences."

"I thought it was a suggestion. Is that what you want from me?" She asked, her temper flaring and she knew by his expression that he was not impressed.

"Calm down. You're making a fool out of your self, Chantal." He murmured as he focused his gaze on a spot above her shoulder.

"I thought you had the privilege of making me look like one!" She threw her hands up in the air, "What made you think that I'd care what Mrs. Barry did and does? I know all about it. I've lived in Duke's theatre for months, hoping that someone would notice me and that they'd finally give me a part. I know all about her talent in both fields, my Lord. Now, if you're done with your crude comments, I'd like to go to bed." She clutched the book to her chest and turned on her heel, ready to walk out.

"For God's sake, woman!" he exclaimed, "How on earth do you always get the wrong meaning. Halt at once."

Chantal paused and slowly turned to face him, "You seem to always know what to say to rile me up, my Lord. I am not made of stone."

"But you have the name of it…" He approached her and smirked, "Isn't that the meaning of your name? Stone?"

She sighed, "Yes." She nodded with exasperation.

He regarded her with intense eyes for a moment and then stepped back, "Enough of this silliness, yes? The speech, Chantal. Then you can rest." He told her and she watched him as he came and resumed his place by the window. The breeze ruffled his hair and he pushed his locks away with the help of his hand.

"I just…need a moment." She muttered as she opened the play and looked at the text.

Taking a big breath she closed her eyes and then started speaking, "Can you repeat Romeo's lines, please?" She murmured and Rochester's lips twitched, but he nodded nonetheless.

"_By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.  
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise." _

"_Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, for that which thou hast heard me speak to-night."_ She started and the Earl smirked and stepped outside for a moment, pacing calmly as she spoke, _"Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' and I will take thy word:" _Her eyes went to him and he noticed it and raised his own gaze on her face, beholding her with sobriety despite the tiny curl of his lip.

"_Yet if thou swear'st, thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, so thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, my true love's passion:" _She watched as he walked back inside and shut the play sharply,_ "Therefore pardon me; and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered."_ She finished and he brought both of his hands behind his back, hiding the play from view.

"Well? What-…"

"_Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-…"_ He cut her off with Romeo's lines and she frowned, but continued.

"_O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable."_

He started approaching her as he spoke, _"What shall I swear by?"_

"_Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee."_ She whispered as he stopped a breath away from her face.

"_If my heart's dear love-…"_

"_Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,"_ she paused as he brushed his nose against hers and smirked at her through half lidded eyes, _"May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!"  
"O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?__" _At her sharp inhalation, he smirked and with a light chuckle he pulled back, "Sweet dreams, Chantal." He murmured and with that he pulled back and turned away from her, "We shall continue tomorrow." He threw the play on his desk and then walked out of the French doors.

Chantal watched him go and then headed for her chamber with a frown.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She heard the talking and laughter as she made her way to the parlor, but she didn't stop. The windows were wide open and the sunlight was slipping through them freely. It was a particularly sunny day despite the humidity.

As she arrived at the threshold, she cleared her throat.

Ms. Gardor looked up and smirked, raising her glass of gin in salute as she distanced herself from the Earl whose eyes were suddenly too focused on Chantal.

"Forgive me for intruding." She murmured and Rochester blinked.

"Will you join us?" He didn't try to hide the fact that he was staring at her cloak and small purse with insistence.

"I fear I cannot. I have some business in London." Chantal replied and she didn't fail to notice that Anne looked particularly bored with her appearance.

"Business?" The Earl murmured, "I thought we were going to practice this evening."

"I can see that you are preoccupied at the moment. I shall take this opportunity to visit my sister and take a few more of my belongings…If your Lordship allows me to take the horse." She added and he stood up. He took a sip from his glass before he placed it on the table and then approached her.

"You can take the carriage…Take Alcock with you in case you need something." When she opened her mouth to object he cut her off, "I insist." He said with slightly narrowed eyes and she gave a small bow.

"As you wish, my Lord." She replied and his hand found its way upon her cheek. His knuckles grazed her skin with the softest of touches and she nearly frowned at the action, but did nothing to pull back. The familiarity he expressed was getting more intense by the day and that, instead of bothering her, was mesmerizing her. She was mad.

"Good day." She whispered before she stepped back and backed away.

She turned on her heel and left the manor just as Anne's voice echoed behind her.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I told you not to leave the carriage." Chantal said as they entered Woodstock. She brushed her soiled skirt and looked at Alcock.

"Men never listen to women. You think you know everything." She informed him and he winced.

"That ain't going to help, ma'am. I got a sore foot, a sore leg and a sore buttock." He said and Chantal shook her head.

"You don't push a reluctant horse to step through mud. How many times did I tell you? You never listened."

"If I hadn't pushed the horse, we wouldn't be here now." He disagreed as he ran a hand through his dirty hair.

Chantal stared at him, her muddied cheek a wild contrast to her pale skin, "If you hadn't pushed it, we wouldn't have fallen into the swamp!"

"So, it's my fault? You were the one insisting to go to London after such heavy rain!"

"I wanted to leave the house! I would have done so alone!" She defended herself and Alcock snorted.

"You? Alone? Don't make me laugh. That drunkard nearly took you behind your sister's house! You really should consider moving out of that house for good." He pointed a dirty finger at her and she narrowed her eyes, ready to snap, but a voice cut her off.

"What the fuck happened to you two?" The Earl's voice billowed from behind them and Alcock whirled around to face him.

"Eh, the horses got stuck in the mud, me Lord. I tried to push it, she helped, we fell." He grinned sheepishly, "Good news is, we made it back…"

"You look ridiculous. Both of you. Order the maid to draw you a bath. You stink." He eyed Alcock with distaste and then turned his gaze on Chantal. His mouth twitched as he watched her and then he decided it was time to beckon her closer.

"Come with me." He murmured and she frowned, but followed him nonetheless.

As she passed, Alcock tugged on a lock of her hair and she glared at him.

"Leaf." He explained and she rolled her eyes before she walked ahead.

Rochester glared at his servant who gave another sheepish smile before he followed after Chantal.

"My room." He called when she started heading for her own chamber.

"My Lord?"

He didn't speak, but placed a hand on her wet back, propelling her towards his chamber.

"I crave for some riveting company." He groaned as he opened the door to his room, "Ms. Gardor left me wanting." He muttered and Chantal cocked an eyebrow.

"I thought she'd be the most pleasant company…for you at least." She said as she placed her unsoiled purse on a nightstand and turned to him.

He snorted as he shut the door and turned the lock. Chantal frowned, but didn't comment.

"Don't look so suspicious, madam…When did I take advantage of you?" He smirked and she rolled her eyes.

He made a small sound when he saw her, "When you do that I have the urge to reprimand you. It's very unlady like for a lady to roll her eyes." He told her as he walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a flask.

"So you say…" She watched him taking a generous gulp from the flask and took a moment to look at his bed.

"I never take my mistresses to my bed, Chantal. That'd be low." He informed her with a teasing smirk and she went dizzy by how quickly she turned to look at him.

"Pardon?"

"Ms. Gardor. I didn't shag her in here." He clarified and Chantal tensed up a little.

"Oh…"

"I used the wall instead." He watched her closely and when she flushed he chuckled darkly.

"What? You thought I brought her here to chat? She doesn't prove a witty partner in that field." He shrugged and took another sip, but she knew that he was already a little drunk from the way his eyes shone.

"Maybe you should go to bed. We missed practicing and-…"

"You look lovely even when covered in dirt." He cut her off and she paused.

"Um…" She sputtered because he wasn't usually lavishing her in compliments.

"However, there's already a filled tub inside. Use it." He waved his hand towards the washroom before he plopped down onto his bed.

Chantal stared at him, "I can go to my chamber."

"But I _want_ you _here_." He said through gritted teeth and then blinked almost drowsily, "You won't refuse me, will you?" He murmured and she bit her tongue.

She couldn't. Not after his confession.

"I need a robe-…"

A cloth was thrust towards her and she caught it.

She looked at it and then at him. He had given her his robe.

He regarded her calmly as he crossed one leg over the other and she nearly laughed at the image he made with his boots on.

Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the washroom.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

She tried to ignore that he was next to her; she really did. He hadn't objected when she suggested she should study the play more. He even gave her his own copy, the one upon his bookshelf.

No, he didn't mind that. But he did watch her. He had long finished his drink. His flask was empty. So, he had found another task; to watch her as she read.

"I was thinking that maybe we should prepare a short scene." She murmured, just to make his eyes leave her face, "Hmm?"

"No. We shall keep practicing _that_ scene." He shook his head at her and reached out.

"But why?"

He plucked the play from her and smirked, "Because it's difficult."

She pursed her lips in thought, "And you want to impress the manager."

"Not me. You shall."

"You sound confident." She pointed out and he threw the book behind him, not caring where it landed before he replied.

"I am."

"You didn't seem so taken by my delivery." She looked at him sideways.

"I cannot _look_ taken by your delivery. That would bring my duty to an end." He breathed in deeply and she imagined that she smelled too heavily of soap. She had scrubbed herself raw because the bloody mud was persistent.

"Right." She muttered.

"Because I must push you." He pointed out as he slid closer.

"Right."

"To your limit."

"Hmm."

"In everything." He smirked as he slipped his hand between the folds of the robe.

She gasped as his warm fingers came in contact with her bare stomach.

"My Lord." She caught his wrist, but he slapped her hand away sharply.

She winced, "What was that for!?"

"For denying me access." He said rather coolly.

"I have a right to deny you access!"

"Have you?" He murmured as he pushed the material away so her belly was visible.

Chantal hissed as his fingers brushed over the long thick scar and it was her turn to smack his hand.

He chuckled and caught her wrists in one hand, pulling them away from her body and his wandering hand.

"Sir!"

"Desist calling me _sir_! It's so pretentious." He muttered as he leaned closer, inspecting her scar with clinical studiousness.

Chantal blushed. Three different shades of crimson coloured her cheeks as his gaze lingered upon her skin, and when he stroked the thick patch of skin with his thumb she shivered, her stomach muscles contracting under his touch.

"You have not taken good care of it. That's why it looks so rough." He murmured as he released her hands and swung his arm, his hand groping around on his nightstand.

His fingers curled around the small bottle of ointment he used and he came to loom over her again.

"How…how did you know where to look?"

He snorted, "You don't have to be a genius, my dear." he muttered as he uncorked the bottle and looked at her, "Is this the reason why you're so uncomfortable in front of others? You think that others can see it?" He leaned closer to her stomach and she flushed even more, "Only we know of our scars, Chantal. Only we are hurt by them because they remind us things we do not wish to remember." His breath fell upon her stomach and she shuddered.

She briefly wondered why she was not moving away. As she locked eyes with him, she knew why; because he was the only one who knew enough about her. He was carrying his own scars with him; scars that would have brought any other male to his knees because they were a blow to his ego.

For Chantal, those scars were proof of her deficiency as a woman.

She blinked as she watched him gazing at her and when his mouth touched the edge of the scar she tensed up, and when his tongue joined his lips and laved at the length of it she whimpered. He parted from her skin with a kiss and then looked up at her.

"This will help." He murmured with a tiny smirk as he poured some of the oil on his fingers and gently applied it on her skin.

"You're very forward, my Lord." She whispered as she clutched onto the front of the robe with both hands.

He chuckled a little, "Someone has to be." He pulled his hand away and looked up at her, "Done. You're welcome to use it." He told her as he corked the bottle and gently rolled it in his hand.

"I guess…I should thank you." She breathed with a sigh and he stared at her in silence.

"You're so very composed…" he murmured cautiously and she blinked, "Sometimes you're too much …" he trailed off and she frowned.

"I'm sorry?"

His lips parted, but he did not speak. Instead, he leaned forward and gazed down at her for a few seconds before he kissed her on the lips.

She inhaled harshly through her nose and as she tried to move back, his fingers grasped her jaw firmly.

Her eyes widened, but when he parted her lips they drifted closed because it felt too odd to stare at him. The fact that she almost went cross-eyed didn't help either.

Satisfied with her compliance, he smirked against her lips and his fingers found purchase around a lock of her semi-wet hair. His tongue found hers and proceeded to roam her mouth with leisure that spoke of a thorough practice and experience.

When breathing became a need, he pulled back and opened his eyes.

"I…" she started, but her voice failed her, "I thought you had already sated your needs, my Lord. What was that?" She asked and he frowned.

"I never kiss wenches on the mouth, Chantal." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she blinked rapidly, the wheels already turning in her head, but he broke the eye contact and rolled away from her.

"Sleep." He muttered as he stood up from the bed.

She watched as he placed the oil on his nightstand and then walked over to his desk. He sat down, brushed his fingers over his mouth and then picked up his quill. He didn't look at her again.

**End of chapter 10**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it…What do you think of our dear Earl's actions? Hmm? Perhaps he's getting a little too comfortable with Chantal, huh?**

**By the way, the scene they practiced was from Act II, scene II of Romeo & Juliet. I just love that scene.**

**Anyway, comments? I want to know your thoughts! Please, let me know what you think.**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Welcome, welcome! Did you miss me? I hope you did! Lol**

**As always, I want to thank: Newland Archer, dionne dance, PGAEmma, lottielovebuzz, MissMisc3, XantheXV, TinkerbellxO, Leyshla Gisel, Sunny, guest, Malsie19 and ForeverACharmedOne. You are all sooo precious! Thank you so much for supporting this!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

_**Love is the poetry of the senses.**_

**_~Honore de Balzac_ **

The Earl slapped the coins on top of the desk, wrinkling the tablecloth with the force of his hand.

Chantal blinked and focused back on her cards, her face pale and her eyes glassy in the candlelight.

"My Lord?" she asked puzzled and he sneered, his eyes on his cards.

"You have that dazed look on your face, Chantal. _Lose_ it." He muttered and she blinked, her cheeks reddening with color.

"I beg your pardon?" She almost screeched the words and he rolled his eyes.

"You look ready to faint. I cannot allow that when we are playing." He tapped his cards against his chin and narrowed his eyes at her, "It's _your_ turn." He murmured and she swallowed hard, trying to push back the panic attack that she knew was fast approaching. The day for the audition was coming closer and even though she knew that she had practiced countless of hours under Rochester's watchful eye, she still couldn't help but feel anxious. Her palms were already soaked with sweat from her nervousness and she wasn't even on the stage yet.

Slowly, she looked up into his eyes, saw the expectancy in his gaze and she knew that it wasn't just his impatience for her to play and fully participate in their game. No, it was expectancy for her upcoming-and probably sole-opportunity. As she picked a card and placed it on the table she couldn't help but pray for her success because she didn't want to fail him. She didn't _want_ to disappoint him. He wouldn't stand for it. Never. And she could never live with herself after such failure because if she let him down, she would also let herself down.

The Earl suddenly snorted and picked a card, "You're a terrible sport right now, Chantal…" He raised his eyes to hers, "I do not like it." His lip curled and she sighed.

"I cannot help it, my Lord-…" She began quietly.

"Yes, you can!" he cut her off, slapping his cards on the table and running his ink stained fingers through his curly hair, "You have practiced. You are prepared! But if you think otherwise, I'd be happy to give you a good arse whipping so that the message can finally _sink in_." He snarled with exasperation and Chantal gasped.

"My Lord. You're awful." She murmured, but she was slightly amused by the imaginary.

He noticed said amusement and his infamous smirk appeared. Chantal quickly schooled her features into neutrality and straightened in her seat.

"You keep making comments about my…backside, my Lord." She started and his eyes narrowed, "Make another one about it and I'll come to the conclusion that you are in love with it." She looked up at him and he chuckled before he raised his finger to his mouth and rubbed it along his glistening bottom lip.

"Oh, you can read me so well, dear heart…You do. Now, be a good girl and fetch some wine." He leaned back in his chair and stared at her with intensity, "You're ruining my game, do not ruin my appetite for a drink too."

His voice held a warning and she stood up, her feet swiftly guiding her towards his liquor cabinet. Once she was in front of it, she rolled her eyes and shook her head at his awful habit.

She opened the cabinet and reached for a bottle, "If you think me so bad at it..." She took a glass and shut the cabinet, "Why didn't you accept Ms. Gardor's invitation to join her at the theatre?" She asked as she set his glass in front of him and poured him a small amount of the wine.

The Earl's hand shot out and grasped her wrist in a tight grip and she paused, her eyes widening minutely at his sudden movement.

"Do _not_ ruin my good mood." He muttered as he looked up at her from thick eyelashes.

"_This_ is your good mood, my Lord?" She chuckled a little and he glared at her, 'I wonder how your bad mood is like then." She pointed out softly.

He tugged her closer, "You are cruel." He remarked and she blinked with confusion, "I refuse the blatant invitation for a _hard_ tumble among the sheets to be with you and you treat me with such…_disregard_. How awful and uncouth." He murmured, but she could tell from the light twitching of his lips and the bright glimmering of his eyes that he was jesting. It should bother her…How he could tease her like that _should_ bother her, but it didn't…Probably because he was so rude to almost everyone…

She fought hard not to roll her eyes at her own thoughts. She was a hypocrite…It didn't bother her because she wanted his acceptance and craved his appraisal and appreciation. Not many actresses and actors had tutors of his station. Hell, most actresses upon their stage couldn't even read…

He raised his eyebrows when she remained silent and Chantal smiled and bowed her head, "How can I absolve myself then?" She asked and he laced her fingers with his almost languidly before he cocked his head to the side.

"You could give me your mouth." He murmured and her eyes widened, but he quickly reached for the glass and downed the contents in one go.

Chantal blinked, "If I gave you my mouth how I would deliver my lines?" She asked and he rolled his eyes at her teasing.

"I want to _kiss_ your mouth, Chantal- among other things- not steal it away." He told her as he grabbed the bottle from her hand. He poured a generous amount in the glass, pushed it towards her and held onto the bottle instead.

"Sit." He commanded and she opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it.

She took a seat and eyed the glass of wine with apprehension.

"Why do you want to kiss me, my Lord?" She asked with genuine curiosity. He could have anyone at his beck and call. Anne was probably drowning in misery just because he refused her invitation to be with his frail student.

The Earl chuckled and leaned back, his eyes dancing with amusement, "Well, I like your mouth, Chantal. It's untainted. Beautiful." He remarked and her stomach clenched almost painfully.

She hadn't expected his honesty. In fact, she doubted that he'd even answer her. Once again she was surprised by him.

"Won't you join me?" His voice was smooth when he spoke again and she narrowed her eyes.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" She asked and he chuckled darkly.

"My dear, that'd be an impossible thing to achieve. You're too headstrong to be easily misguided towards the road of _sin_." He breathed out the last word with intensity and she flushed.

"Yet you have been extremely convincing in other fields." She pointed out as her fingers came into contact with the tall glass.

"Such as?" He eyed her fingers and then her face with devoted appraisal and she cleared her throat.

"You managed to get me on a horse again…"

"Yes?" He drawled almost wearily and she shook her head.

"I feared horses since…" She trailed off and then took a sip from the wine. His eyes followed the movement with triumph.

"Good girl…" he murmured and she looked at him from over the rim of the glass, "Go on." He encouraged when she didn't continue and she sighed.

"How come you're so interested in what I have to say?" she questioned gently and he pursed his mouth, "Keep showing such ardor towards me and I shall consider you taken with me." She teased and when he remained silent she was worried that her teasing had gotten to him.

"You rarely speak, Chantal…" he started and she swallowed thickly, "I want to know what goes through that brilliant mind of yours." He told her as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a long sip.

She furrowed her brow, "That doesn't answer my question-…"

"Chantal." he cut her off as he lowered the bottle from his mouth, "If I didn't find you…riveting, I wouldn't have taken you under my tutelage…I probably wouldn't let you sit with me for a card game. Do not dig deeper into something that is so obvious." His eyelids fluttered drowsily and she smiled a little.

"If it is obvious how could I dig deeper?" She pointed out and he paused before he smirked at her.

"If I didn't find this…change entertaining I would probably advise you not to be so comfortable with me…God knows how easily I could take advantage of it." He murmured and she flushed, taking a sip from the wine to hide her surprise. When she lowered the glass he clicked his tongue and threw his cards towards her.

"Mix them up…Then cut." He motioned towards them and she did so.

"I should probably go to bed…" She muttered as she gathered the cards and started fumbling with them.

"Would you fall sleep?" He asked her with a critical gaze and she sighed.

"Probably not." She murmured and he smirked as he reached over and refilled her glass to the brim.

"Good. At least you're honest." He said and she watched as he poured the drink, wondering if Anne could ever drink from the same bottle with him…Chantal inwardly scoffed. Foolish thought. The woman had probably done more than drink-…

"It is better to occupy your mind with something when you cannot rest." He cut through her thoughts with his smooth voice and she looked at him. He was watching her oddly.

"Drinking helps…It clouds the mind…Fogs it up so you can have a few moments of peace." He tilted his head to the side as he pulled the bottle close to him again and Chantal blinked at his words, her brow furrowing with confusion.

"Is that why you drink?" She asked before she could help herself and he grinned bitterly.

"I've been told I am rather endearing when drunk…In other words, gents cannot stand me when I am sober and ladies do not want me sober. They think me cruel." He added and Chantal handed him his cards.

"You are cruel, my Lord." She pointed out and he sneered.

"If you think straightforwardness is cruel."

"Sometimes a lie is better."

"Are you speaking from experience?" He narrowed his eyes in speculation and she paused.

"No…I prefer the truth, but I have a rather difficult time voicing it." She whispered and Rochester looked at her incredulously.

"So every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie?" He actually chuckled and she quickly shook her head.

"No…I am talking about truths that hurt." She clarified and he parted his mouth with a sigh.

"Ah, you mean the truths that matter because if they didn't they wouldn't hurt." He told her as he grimaced and pushed the cards away.

Chantal frowned, "I guess…I suppose you're right."

"You know what that makes you, right?" He murmured and she shrugged, abandoning the cards with a sigh.

"A coward?" she offered and he remained silent, simply observing her before he shook his head.

"No…Simply brave."

Chantal gaped at him, "What?"

He stood up, taking the bottle with him as he walked around the table to get to her.

"Let us think." He started as he took a swing from the wine, "You," he pointed a finger at her, "You would rather think, or pretend, that you are simply an old maid, a spinster," He continued and she cringed at his words.

"Thank you, my Lord." She muttered and he placed his hand on the table to her right while he trapped her in her chair by placing his other one on the arm of the chair to her left.

"I wasn't finished." He breathed harshly into her ear and she pursed her lips as she waited for his thoughts.

"So, you would rather be passed for an old maid with not one," he brushed his lips over her ear and then leaned towards her cheek, "single lover in all your…twenty five years-…"

"Twenty four." She corrected him with a resigned expression and he snorted.

"Twenty four, yes." He took a deep breath, "You'd rather play the difficult bride than have people know something that would make _them_ reject you. So, you choose to be alone…" He hissed into her ear and she stiffened, "Am I wrong?"

Chantal gently tapped her fingers on the table, "How do you know there have been suitors?" She asked, evading the question and he chuckled hoarsely before he replied.

"Dear heart, with this face," He trailed his fingers down her cheek, "there is no question that there have been gentlemen eager enough to marry you."

She caught his hand before it could slide down her neck and he inhaled sharply, "My Lord, I am only protecting myself." She replied softly.

"By denying yourself pleasure."

"Pleasure?" She turned and looked at him. He seemed avidly interested and it unsettled her.

"So, you did find pleasure in your marriage." She cleared out and he pursed his lips in a scowl.

"Of course." His answer was clipped and short.

Chantal frowned and turned in her chair before she let go of his hand. He let it drop on her chair limply.

"Then why?" She murmured.

"Why what?" he asked bitingly.

"Why betray your wife-…"

"I never betrayed anyone, Chantal! I was always truthful and I will probably always be." He pushed away from her and swallowed more wine.

"Alright." She nodded her head, "Then-…"

"The ones who loved me knew who I was before they made the mistake of offering their heart in front of my feet." He cut her off sharply and she bit her lip.

"Loved?" She asked and he rolled his eyes.

"Change the subject. _Now_." He waved a hand at her and she sighed.

"Very well. Let us return to me then. I agree that I would rather be the old maid than have others reject me because they find me lacking as a woman." She announced with determination and he turned to her, his eyes misty.

"Then I would rather be the rake who seduces women, the member of the peerage who drinks and fucks everything that moves, than be the perfect son and husband. _That_ is who I am, Chantal. The people who supposedly _love_ me must accept me for who I am. The same must apply for you as well." His voice was laced with bemusement and anger and she shook her head.

"That is not how society works-…"

"Bugger society, Chantal. What good has it done you? Nothing at all. If I hadn't lied, you'd still be the unseen kitten that you had always been!" His voice was incredulous.

"I agree. That doesn't change the fact that you deceived people to achieve your purpose."

He snorted, "My love, you're an actress. You lie for a living." He informed her as he brought the bottle to his lips, "The end justifies the means. Besides, aside from Mr. Betterton we didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it." He closed his lips around the neck of the bottle and drank while he watched her.

"Mrs. Barry is probably furious."

He lowered the bottle and swallowed before he smirked, "She had it coming." He muttered simply and Chantal rubbed her eyes.

"Well, it seems to me that you have made observations about me…" She looked up at him, "Is there anything else you'd like to point out before I retire?" She asked and he regarded her for a few moments before he curled his lip.

"Well, it is a good thing you know I can _see_ you." He drawled, "That way you can push away your inhibitions and actually help yourself move forward."

Chantal stood up, "Can you move forward?" She questioned quietly, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

He grinned and stepped towards her. He placed his hand on her collarbone and trailed it down her chest until he cupped her breast in his hand. She inhaled sharply, but she didn't move because he beat her to it. His fingers gently kneaded her flesh for a second and then he pushed her backwards. She lost her balance and fell on the bed, _his_ bed, with a gasp.

"I plan to." He answered quietly and she looked at him from the bed as he made his way towards the French doors. He opened them with his free hand and then stepped outside. Chantal sat up on her elbows and watched him as he squatted on the ground and gazed ahead of him.

Taking a deep breath she rested back, convincing herself that she'd only linger a moment to watch him. She was asleep before he walked back inside his chamber.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"_'Tis almost morning: I would have thee gone:__And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand,__like a poor prisoner in his__ twisted gyves, and with a silk thread plucks it back again, so loving-jealous of his liberty." _Chantal tried to ignore how bright the stage was. She also had to ignore the three pairs of eyes that were upon her.

"_I would I were thy bird." _

"_Sweet, so would I. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." _Sweet relief flowed through her entire body when she delivered the last words. The scene was over and she slowly, gracefully, lowered her hand from her chest as her eyes locked with Mr. Killigrew's bright gaze.

"Thank you, Mr. Mountfort." Killigrew raised his hand towards the actor and the young man stepped back and smiled at the manager and then at Chantal.

"A pleasure, Ms. Paige." He gave a bow and then stepped towards the door that led backstage, "My Lord." He acknowledged Rochester who offered a small smirk at the younger man.

"Well, Ms. Paige," Mr. Killigrew began with a laugh, "It seems to me that all the good actors and actresses were hiding in Dorset Garden!" He exclaimed and Chantal smiled complacently, ignoring the sly twitch on Rochester's lips.

"Why, thank you, sir. It's an honour to have you say so." She breathed as she thrust her hands behind her back and locked them together.

"My Lord, I think you have provided the London stage with another great jewel…I wonder how much effort it took you to polish it to perfection." Killigrew stood up and looked at Rochester indulgently.

The Earl stood up and grabbed his cane, leaning against it as his eyes flickered towards Chantal for a moment.

"Well, I assure you the effort was minimal, Master Thomas." He replied smoothly, "I take it that you stole Mr. Mountfort away too? Last I heard he was ready to star alongside Mrs. Barry and Mr. Harris." Rochester cocked a single eyebrow and Killigrew smiled widely.

"Well, I do have my ways, my Lord…Like you do, I suppose." He laughed and Rochester smirked.

Killigrew turned towards Chantal and outstretched his hand to her. She stepped away from the stage and accepted his hand before he brought her closer. She came to a stop next to Rochester who reached out and took hold of her hand. He stroked it and then brought it to his lips for a kiss.

"Perhaps you should start posing as an actor too, my Lord. Rumour has it you have a flair for theatrics." Anne's voice echoed in the gallery and Chantal looked at the woman.

"Ms. Gardor?" Killigrew murmured and she smiled, but it was a fake smile.

"I am here to practice…If you are finished, of course." She added as she approached them.

Chantal looked at the Earl, but he had a smirk on his face. She narrowed her eyes because she knew what that look meant; trouble.

"Yes, yes. Of course. We just finished. You may now welcome Ms. Paige to our stage." Killigrew smiled as Anne slowly approached and the strain was obvious upon her _almost_ remarkably schooled features.

"Ms. Paige. Welcome." Anne said quietly, her gaze flickering towards the Earl and his hand which was wrapped around Chantal's fingers.

"Thank you, Ms. Gardor." Chantal replied softly and then smiled, "It will be a pleasure being here, I hope." She added and Anne nodded distractedly.

"Yes…Nell will be delighted when she hears the news." She muttered and Chantal kept the smile on her face. Something was terribly out of place with Anne…She wondered what it was.

"Well, we better be off then." The Earl started smoothly and Chantal looked at Master Thomas.

"When should I be here?" she asked him and he smiled.

"Rehearsals for the production start next week. Early in the morning." He replied and she nodded.

"I'll be here."

"May I have a moment?" Anne suddenly cut in, her eyes on Rochester and his expression stilled.

"Of course." He inclined his head like a gentleman would and waved his hand towards the back of the gallery. Chantal noticed that he didn't wait for Anne to walk ahead of him. She was left to trail after him like a lost mutt.

She shook her head and when they disappeared behind the draperies that separated the gallery from the back rooms, she turned her attention on Mr. Killigrew.

"I think I shall arrange an outing for the entire cast and crew." He announced and she beamed at him.

"How lovely."

"That way you can become acquainted with your colleagues. How does that sound, Ms. Paige?" He asked and she nodded.

"Wonderful idea, Sir Thomas…If I may, who is going to star as Romeo?" she asked and Killigrew grinned.

"Mr. Mountfort, of course. He is a lovely young actor and very well behaved."

Chantal nodded, "I see. Well, I cannot wait to work with him."

Killigrew gazed at his pocket watch and winced, "Well, if you'll excuse me, Ms. Paige. I have to be off for a meeting with the producer. I shall see you on Monday then." He outstretched his hand for a shake and she took it, shaking it gently.

"Thank you, sir. Truthfully." She said with genuine gratitude and he patted her hand before he turned and walked away.

Chantal was left alone and she sighed. She paced up and down a few times, casually walking through the seats, until she groaned and shook her head.

Convinced that the Earl was off with Anne hot on his heels, she walked towards the curtains and she came to a sudden stop when she saw them behind the drapes. They made a sight. Anne was leaning against the draperies, her eyes wide and her lips parted, while he was leaning into her with his hand on the dip of her throat. He was holding his walking stick with his free hand and his hat was obscuring his face.

Chantal faltered and stepped back a little.

"How much longer must I wait?" Anne's voice was a little bit breathless, but Chantal couldn't really blame the woman. She herself was out of breath when he was that near. It was a physical reaction; a contagious one.

"Wait for what?" Rochester's voice was amused and Chantal could detect mockery in it.

"You know what." Anne replied tersely and the Earl laughed.

"My dear, I fear that you have misunderstood me." He leaned even closer, "I cannot stand any emotion, let alone expectation. So, _do not_ wait."

"I beg your pardon?" She whispered and Chantal frowned.

"Whatever you expect, stop expecting it." His voice was so fed up that it was impossible not to notice it.

"You don't want me anymore?" Anne's voice was small and Chantal cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course I do…" His finger trailed down Anne's throat and Chantal swallowed hard at the gesture because it was so familiar.

"And I will keep wanting you unless you discourage me by begging for titles and lawfulness." He pulled his finger away and Anne frowned.

"You don't want a wife? A man of your class-…"

Rochester's finger settled on Anne's lips, stopping her speech.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were blind…or foolish." He murmured with deceiving kindness and Chantal knew that she should walk away, but she couldn't.

"I already have made my choice. Isn't it obvious?" Rochester purred and Chantal's frown deepened.

"The actress? Her? Don't make me laugh!" Anne almost screeched and Chantal froze.

_What? Barry?_

"I have no wish to make you laugh, Anne. I do wish you could put that mouth of yours to a better use though…" He drawled as he trailed his fingers over her lips.

Anne took a deep breath and leaned forward, as if to kiss him and when he curled his fingers around her neck and pushed her back, she gasped. Chantal almost had the same reaction.

"None of that. If you wish to bring our association to a stop, I won't discourage you-…"

"No! Of course, I don't want that! But Chantal-…"

"A gent must always distinguish his heart from his cock, my dear. Isn't that what you've been doing all along with me? I know how you long for Mr. Mountfort. It is no secret. Do not lower yourself by selling yourself cheap for a title." Abruptly he let go of her and stepped back.

Chantal quickly made her retreat, willing the curtains to stop billowing. The last thing she wanted was to be seen spying on them.

A few moments later, he appeared through the draperies. He parted them with his cane and his face came into view a moment later.

"How about a drink, pet? You and me." He stepped towards her, his eyes dark and she swallowed hard when she realized that he'd been talking about her all along. Her; not Mrs. Barry.

_Christ, was he out of his mind?_

"Um, a drink?" she finally managed an answer and he grinned at her.

"To celebrate your new position." He reached out and she accepted his hand, feeling oddly disgruntled by the incident she had just witnessed.

"Alright." She allowed him to pull her away and as they made their way towards the exit, Anne was nowhere to be seen.

"I…I hope your Lordship is satisfied?" She said just to break the silence and he came to an abrupt stop. He turned to face her, his eyes liquid pools of deviousness and his lips stretched back into a charming grin.

"Your question has many possible answers." He breathed before he leaned in. His fingers got lost in her flaxen tresses and then his mouth captured hers in a deep kiss. Both of her hands grasped his wrist and he groaned low in his throat before he pulled back.

"My Lord." She breathed in a voice that was half admonishing, half breathless, "Is there someone watching?" She blinked and he grinned.

"No." He deadpanned and her heart lurched inside her chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist and propelled her towards the gate.

"Then what was that for?" She hissed and when she looked at him he was grinning wolfishly, but he didn't speak.

Chantal stifled her groan and as he waved Alcock away from the gates and led her towards a pub she tensed up.

When they were seated, he leaned back and placed his walking stick on the table between them. With a single wave of his hand a barmaid approached and took their order.

"I don't want anything." Chantal said quickly and the woman gaped at her while Rochester rolled his eyes.

"They have no tea here." He informed her sarcastically, but she didn't share his joke.

"Ale for me and a new expression for the lady." He ordered at last and the barmaid giggled before she walked away.

"What's the matter now, Chantal? Why the long face? I thought you were happy. You didn't stumble over the words, you didn't forget a line and you did make love eyes to young Mr. Mountfort." He remarked and she sighed.

"No, I was perfect." She said as she looked him in the eye and he smirked.

"That you were…" he mused, "And I am sure Mr. Mountfort appreciated it too."

Chantal leaned forward, "You confound me, my Lord. You really do." She told him and he tilted his head to the side.

"I am glad."

"Why did you say to Anne that you want to marry me?" She asked him with no introduction and a quick shadow passed over his features at her question, but it was gone when he smirked deviously.

"Eavesdropping is rude, Chantal. Unless you wanted a good show which we failed to provide." He drawled and as the barmaid placed his drink on the table, he slipped a few coins in her palm. The woman opened her mouth in what seemed like a protest, but he waved her away with an impatient hand.

"Well? I think I deserve an answer." Chantal pressed on and he took a lazy sip from his drink before he raised his eyes to hers.

"You do?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." He pushed the glass away and leaned even closer, "I said it because I wanted to. I said it because the idea didn't seem as absurd as when I came up with it. I said it because I knew you were there and so far your reaction is not that of a reluctant woman." He murmured and then he leaned back in his seat.

Chantal blinked and slowly shook her head to clear it.

"You…you…You're out of your wits." She said at last and he licked his lips before he drained his glass.

"Am I?" he asked as he slowly stood, "Well, then you must join me in my malady, madam." He looked down at her, "Because your eyes haven't stopped shining since the moment I found you behind the curtains." He murmured as he leaned down and kissed her temple.

"I shall wait for you in the carriage."

He departed with those words and Chantal gently touched her flushed cheeks. They were burning with mortification.

**End of chapter 11**

**Author's note: Still here? Really? Thank you for reading then! Comments, please? I greatly appreciate them.**

***Info: William Mountfort was an actor during the Restoration. He began his career as an actor for the Duke's Theatre and he quickly became a leading man. He was also famous for his good looks.***

**Thoughts?**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello and welcome back! A huge thank you to: MissMisc3, PGAEmma, Little-Annie, ForeverACharmedOne, TinkerbellxO, dionne dance, lottielovebuzz, Newland Archer, XantheXV and Leyshla Gisel. You are all awesome!**

***This chapter is dedicated to MissMisc3 because she's had a rough week! You go, love!***

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

'_**Wrong'd shall he live, insulted o're, opprest,**_

_**Who dares be less a Villain, than the rest.'**_

_**~John Wilmot, A Satire Against Mankind**_

The glass of wine was thrust in front of her face and she startled, quickly turning around to face the person who had approached her.

"Oh." She exclaimed as she came face to face with Mr. Mountfort, "Good evening." She smiled and eyed the glass of wine for a moment before she took it out of politeness.

"Good evening, Ms. Paige." He nodded his head and his eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he gazed at her curiously.

"I didn't think you were here." She opened her fan and started producing air as color rose to her cheeks. Did he have to stare so openly?

"I just arrived. I had some business to take care of…Would you like to take a walk around?" He suggested with hope and Chantal looked around her.

"I am waiting for Lord Rochester to return." She said simply, hoping that he would understand.

Mr. Mountfort frowned and took a sip from his own glass, "Ah…I think I just saw him backstage with Ms. Gardor…" He hinted, but Chantal only smiled.

"We've been here for hours and I think it is time to go home and rest. After all we have a premiere in a week." She took a tiny sip from the glass just to occupy herself with something and the man in front of her eyed her with open appraisal.

"I daresay it will be a success. I am certain that we only need two or three more rehearsals and then you shall be perfect."

Chantal stiffened. _She?_ Only she? How egotistical.

"Yes, well, it was odd when you missed the first three rehearsals…Your understudy was kind enough to help me out." She pointed out, trying to keep the sharp edge off her voice.

Mr. Mountfort looked up at that and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he replied quietly, "My mother was sick, Ms. Paige. That was the reason for my absence and I beg your forgiveness."

Chantal blinked and then cleared her throat, suddenly feeling bad for her quick assessment.

"Then you have to forgive me, sir. I didn't know. I trust she is well now?" She murmured and suddenly he smiled, the shadows gone and she was impressed at how much his bright eyes shone.

"She is very well and in very good spirits. And you are forgiven, madam…Would you like to dance?" He pointed towards the center of the large entrance hall where several couples were gently swaying to the soft sound of the violin.

Chantal hesitated and then nodded, "Why not?"

She put the wine glass away and accepted his hand as he led her towards the couples.

"How was this party?" he asked as he pulled her close and started swaying gently along with the melody, "How did everyone seem?"

Chantal placed her hand on his shoulder and looked around her, "It was wonderful. Mr. Killigrew was very kind to arrange this little gathering for me." She smiled and Mr. Mountfort snorted.

"Little gathering? Half of London is here and I am certain that the party accomplished several goals." His blue eyes locked with hers, "To promote you and introduce you to the London peerage. Very sly indeed."

Chantal gave a tiny shrug, "He is a business manager. He has to do these things." She followed him in a twirl and then added, "There are worse things than parties that are meant to bring people closer." She muttered and Mr. Mountfort frowned down at her.

"Such as?"

Chantal opened her mouth to reply, but a smooth voice cut her speech off.

"Coming through, coming through. Beware the pregnant belly, my good people." The Earl's voice was surprisingly close and…light.

Chantal turned her head to the right and saw Mrs. Gwyn first. Behind her, holding her by the hand was Rochester, a small smirk on his face as he watched Nell trying to push herself through the couples.

Chantal was momentarily shocked at the Earl's demeanor. He looked…openly amused.

She stared and he must have sensed it because he looked up suddenly and locked eyes with her. His expression stilled for a moment and then he noticed the man dancing with her and his eyes narrowed.

Nell managed to weave herself through the people until she finally arrived next to Chantal.

"Ms. Paige." She gave a wink and a smile, "How lovely to see you. What a lovely gown." She commented and Chantal looked away from the Earl.

"Thank you. You look lovely too." She smiled in return as Nell pulled Rochester close and patted his cheek.

"Thank you, Chantal. I swear my backside is tired sick of sitting down. So, I think divine intervention sent my Lord Rochester to sweep me off my feet."

The Earl rolled his eyes and grabbed Nell's hand, forcing her forward.

"Oh cease your sweet talking, madam. You have me already." He muttered as he briefly glanced at Mr. Mountfort, "Young Master William, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence. How…thrilling." He twirled Nell around and his expensive overcoat brushed Chantal's skirts, "Ms. Gardor was anxious of your arrival. Good Lord, she looked positively rabid with hope." He smirked and Chantal felt Mr. Mountfort's shoulder tensing up under her palm.

"Good evening, my Lord. I am glad to know that I was missed." Mountfort replied smoothly as he pulled Chantal closer and gave a sharp turn.

"That you were." His hand flexed on Nell's lightly corseted back in an attempt to pull her closer, but her belly did not allow such a movement and the woman winced.

"Heavens, my Lord! You've forgotten how to handle a delicate woman with child. I think you should remember how as soon as possible." Mrs. Gwyn exclaimed and Chantal's cheeks flushed as two pairs of eyes settled on her.

Rochester actually laughed and loosened his hold, "I beg your pardon, madam. I forgot I am also dancing with the King's offspring. What a grave mistake." He murmured with a wicked glimmer and Nell slapped his arm before she pulled him away.

"I won't steal him for long. I just need to introduce him to someone." She called with a glance at Chantal who merely nodded.

Mr. Mountfort cleared his throat and looked down at Chantal.

"I trust Lord Rochester is very…riveting company." He noted and Chantal looked up at him quickly, finding no reason to lie.

"Of course he is. I daresay he is the most interesting man I've ever met. And I am not saying that because he is my tutor-…"

"And your lover." He cut her off and she stiffened, "I beg your pardon, madam, but it is obvious and everybody is talking about it. I meant no disrespect." He quickly amended and Chantal pursed her lips.

"It is of no great consequence, sir. At least you're honest…You said it is obvious? How? I tend to behave rather modestly in public." She cocked an eyebrow in challenge and Mountfort flushed.

"Well, it is obvious from the way he is looking at you. Like you are the last ray of sunshine." He muttered and Chantal averted her eyes, knowing that was so not true…

"And who can blame him?" Mr. Mountfort added and Chantal quickly pulled her hands away and stepped back.

"I am certain that you are exaggerating, sir. I shall see you at the rehearsal." She gave a small bow and walked away, shaking her head. She had no desire to become a man's obsession, especially Mr. Mountfort's and especially when she knew that Ms. Gardor was after him as well. Besides, there was another man she had to worry about and he was proving to be very difficult for her to handle especially after his odd-almost-proposal the other day-…

A hand curled around her elbow and pulled her back and she gasped in fright.

Husky laughter reached her ears as she was pressed against a solid chest.

"By God you look like a startled deer. Whatever happened with the young mutt?" Rochester asked in her ear as he wrapped an arm around her back and steered her towards the exit.

Chantal looked up and he in turn lowered his gaze to hers.

"He made some comments about…about certain things." She muttered as she smoothed down her skirts. She didn't try to pull away because his hold was strong and because she had no wish to do so. She was a bit dizzy and he was warm.

"Ah," he drawled as he clanked his walking stick against the ground sharply, "About us?"

At her nod he smirked and inhaled deeply, "Good. But that doesn't explain your shock…Let me guess," he motioned for Alcock to walk ahead and fetch the carriage before he continued.

"He tried to seduce you-…"

"No!" Chantal exclaimed and Rochester cocked an eyebrow, "I mean…not really. Can we stop talking, please? My head feels awful." She leaned a little towards him and he raised both eyebrows in question.

"You're not going to fall asleep on me, are you?" His fingers grasped a lock of her hair and he twirled it around his finger as he sniffed loudly.

"Why, I smell wine on you. Am I being a bad influence?" he chuckled as he tipped his hat to the stage manager by the entrance and Chantal rolled her eyes before she straightened.

"No. It is no wonder you smelled it. You can sense the vile thing from afar." She muttered and he snorted, but remained silent.

"My Lord!"

Rochester looked at Alcock who was leaning over someone by the entrance and wrinkled his nose in distaste.  
"What are you doing? Is it a beggar? Alcock!" he hissed when he saw his servant's hands on the person by the sidewalk.

Chantal pulled away and walked towards them, "My Lord, it is a woman, not a beggar." She said and Rochester squared his shoulders.

"Let her be. We need to get back to Woodstock before midnight." He turned, ready to leave, but Chantal spoke again.

"My Lord." Her voice was sharp and a little shaky and the Earl ground his teeth together.

"Stop wasting my time and get along!"

"My Lord, that's…" Alcock trailed off and Rochester snarled as he turned around abruptly and stormed towards them.

"Will you at least put one sentence together properly? What the fuck is it?" He came to stand beside Chantal and then Alcock pushed the woman's dirty blond hair away from her face.

Rochester frowned, "What?"

Alcock looked up and lifted the woman's face upwards, "Don't you know her, my Lord?" he asked and Rochester slowly blinked and finally leaned forward to look at the dirty face better. Gradually, the fog of forgetfulness dissolved and his eyes widened.

His mouth fell open, "Jane?" he murmured and Chantal frowned.

"You know her?" she whispered, but the Earl was already kneeling down. He thrust his walking stick in Chantal's hands and she quickly caught it as his hand touched the woman's face and tilted it towards him.

"My God, Jane." He breathed and then his eyes roamed her figure, stopping at the bloodied mess that was her skirts. Without preamble he slipped his hand underneath her skirt and touched her thigh. He pulled his hand back and his fingers were covered in blood.

Chantal's hand flew to her mouth, "Is she alive?"

"Yes. Fetch the carriage. There's a physician down the street." Rochester ordered and Alcock nodded before he sprung to his feet and hurried away.

"You know her?" Chantal asked and he nodded sharply.

"Come behind me for a moment. I need to do something." He muttered as he removed his linen scarf and bunched it up. He looked around and then slipped it under the dirty skirts and placed it between the woman's thighs. Chantal looked around, but it was dark.

"How…"

"How do you think?" he snapped as he looked up at her and she bit her lip.

"She is…" she trailed off.

"She worked at the brothel near Duke's. I haven't seen her in years." He stood up as the carriage arrived. Alcock and the driver approached and picked Jane up form the ground. They placed her in the coach and Rochester looked at Chantal.

"You may wait until-…"

"I don't mind coming along." She cut him off and he hesitated before he nodded and offered her his hand.

She took it and with his help she climbed into the carriage. When he was in, the carriage took off. Chantal remained silent when the Earl reached out and trailed his fingers down Jane's cheek. She also didn't speak when the carriage stopped in front of the physician's house and Rochester handed the old man a pouch of gold with the promise to pay for any further expenses. She also didn't make a sound when the Earl's gaze lingered on the closed door.

When the carriage took off again, she looked up from her lap and gazed at the Earl's profile.

"That was very generous of you, my Lord. I didn't…Thank you." She murmured and he looked at her then, a frown on his features.

"Why do you thank me?" He asked her quietly and she took a deep breath.

"I have to thank you for many things, but I suppose you will laugh at me. Suffice it to say that you once again managed to surprise me." She whispered and strangely enough he smirked and shook his head in amusement.

"My mission in life, dear heart." He leaned back and slipped his cane between his legs, curling both his hands around the handle as he regarded her.

"Blue suits you, Chantal. You should wear it more often. Black is too morbid for a woman of your caliber." He commented and then turned his gaze away, staring right outside the window for the rest of the trip back to Woodstock.

Chantal tried, but failed not to turn pink once more.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"What are you humming, woman?"

Chantal looked up from Beth and she was startled to see Rochester standing by the door. He rarely visited his daughter lately and when he did he made sure to come when she was already asleep.

Chantal gave a tiny shrug, "A tune I remembered…I don't know the name." She gazed down at the baby and she laughed when she realized that her wide brown eyes were open.

"I cannot look at her…not for long." She heard him murmur and she paused, lifting her head to look up at him with confusion.

"Why?"

He snarled and pushed away from the door, storming towards the window instead.

"Because it makes me sick." His reply was cutting and it was as if the baby understood it because she started whimpering.

"That's…" Chantal trailed off, "That's sad." She said at last and he scoffed.

"Why?"

She licked her lips, "Because she looks just like you." She gently rocked the child and Beth got quiet again.

Rochester snorted, "Don't be ridiculous." He snapped sharply and Chantal tilted her head to the side.

"Perhaps if you actually looked at her you would see it."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Don't be an idiot."

"I could say the same thing."

Abruptly, he turned and faced her, his eyes narrowed. "Your trickery won't work. She's exactly like her mother."

"Is she?" Chantal shifted the baby so that he could look at it.

Rochester's nostrils flared, but his eyes did fall on the baby. Gradually the anger left his face and his expression softened.

"Your view on her mother is clouding your judgment, my Lord. It is not fair. I thought you loved her." She murmured as she stood and put the baby in her crib.

He rolled his eyes, "Of course I love her. Don't be stupid." He moved away and paused by the door.

"Chantal."

She looked up as she shut the window and turned towards him.

"Yes?"

He turned to face her, his expression weary, "Don't…" he faltered and then walked over to her. He placed a hand on her head, running his fingers through her long hair before he grasped her chin.

"Don't get too attached. As fate is always cruel, I have the suspicion that her mother's inconstancy will remove her from my care. If she comes asking I won't be able to deny her access to her child. If the child grows up and leaves to live with her mother…" he trailed off and Chantal smiled sadly.

"You worry about me?" She evaded his words and his eyes narrowed.

"Is that a trick question?"

She shook her head, "If she leaves, then perhaps you should spend more time with her." She stepped back and he released her chin, his eyes studying her until he smirked.

"Touché."

She smiled and made to pass past him, but he caught her arm. She gasped and looked at him, her expression guarded.

"Come and read in my chamber. I will be there shortly." He murmured and she blinked.

"Um…I…"

"That was not a request." He cut her off and then his expression softened, "You won't deny me, will you?"

Chantal took a deep breath, "Would it matter if I did?"

He frowned, "Of course." He released her and then turned towards his daughter.

Chantal didn't linger because she didn't want to think too much about his response. She had enough things to think about and all of them had to do with him. The man was a mystery.

With butterflies in the pit of her belly, she turned and fled the room. Her feet guided her towards the Earl's chamber almost without her will. She groaned and slipped inside, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her not to. She feared that the damage was already done anyway.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal clutched at the book more tightly when someone tried to tug it out of her grip. She curled her fingers around the leather binding and tried hard not to let go as the incessant tugging continued.

A chuckle caused her eyes to flicker behind her closed eyelids and she frowned when a hand fell upon her hip. There was silence and she relaxed for a moment until the hand on her hip moved and slipped over to cover her belly. Warm breath fell on her ear and she shivered, her eyes slowly opening. The chamber was dressed in darkness since the last couple of candles were ready to burn out and she blinked as the book was pulled from a grip.

"There, there. It's just me." The Earl's voice was low as he placed the book on the bedside table and then settled next to her, pulling her back, back until she was pressed against his chest.

Chantal's breath hitched when the hand on her belly moved up to push the robe off her shoulders and she tried to sit up, but his arm, strong and firm, curled around her waist and pulled her back down.

"You do not fear me, do you?" He murmured as he pushed the robe away and placed a hand on her collarbone. He splayed his fingers over her pale skin and forced her backwards until she was on her back.

His eyes found hers in the semi darkness and she frowned.

"Should I?" she asked groggily and he smirked.

"No, not you." He leaned down and supported his head on his palm, holding himself up with his elbow.

Chantal looked at him, studying him. "What do you want from me, my Lord? I cannot tell."

He blinked and his hand moved up her collarbone to her neck. He curled his fingers around her slender throat and she swallowed hard.

"Yes, you can. You know what I want."

"Do I? Half the time I think you are just mad at me." She shook her head, "What do you want? Speak plainly."

Rochester moved his hand and his fingertips found her mouth, gliding smoothly across her bottom lip and then sliding in, brushing against the moist inner flesh of it.

Chantal could barely breathe as he leaned down towards her, his lips a breath away from hers. His mouth fell open and he blew on her parted lips, laughing when she shivered. He pulled his hand from his head and placed it on the pillow by her head, his fingers curling over a few strands as he flicked his tongue out and gently laved at the corner of her mouth.

"I want you…" His tongue slid smoothly across her top lip and he kissed her firmly, holding her jaw in place before he pulled back, "to come ride with me." Abruptly he pulled back and sat up, slipping his boots off and throwing her slippers towards her.

Chantal quickly shut her mouth and tried to regulate her breathing.

"Pardon?" she whispered, but he was already at the French doors, pulling them open and stepping outside.

"Come with me." His smirk was crooked and it spoke of mischief and Chantal was shocked to realize that she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Not good.

"Um."

"_Come with me." _He repeated and then turned and walked away in the dark.

Chantal slowly slipped on her slippers and then stood up. She swallowed thickly and followed him since sleep was out of the question after that.

She followed him at an appropriate distance and when he disappeared into the stables she waited.

He appeared moments later with his stallion and his leather crop. There was no saddle on the horse.

"My Lord?" she called with confusion, but he simply grabbed the reins and pulled himself up, settling on the horse's back with a smug smirk.

"Come."

"I am not riding bareback!" She exclaimed with an almost screech and he laughed huskily.

"Yes, you are. You need the confidence boost we've talked about." His hand reached out, his fingers beckoning and she hesitated. Finally, her curiosity won over her immense fear and she stepped towards him and the horse. Her palm slid over his and he closed his fingers firmly around her smaller hand. He tugged on it and she grabbed at it hard as he pulled her up with a groan.

She settled behind him with a small sway and he chuckled as she clutched at his waist for support.

He glanced at her for a moment and then he tapped his feet against the horse's side. He tugged slightly on the reins and the stallion stated trotting away from the stables and towards the woods that were surrounding the manor.

"This is dangerous." She called and he smirked.

"Good."

"We might fall off. Tumble to the ground…Lose our heads."

The Earl snorted, "_Lose_ our heads?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed and when he patted the horse's side with the tip of the crop she squealed.

"What was that sound?" He called with wicked amusement as he did it again and the horse quickened the already fast pace.

"My Lord!" Chantal curled her fingers around the loose fabric of his shirt, pressing her firsts into his taut stomach and pushing her face on his back out of fear of falling.

His chuckles went on and she dug her fist hard into his stomach in an attempt to hush him. He stopped and snorted, forcing the horse to a smoother and less fast pace.

Chantal looked up and she recognized the place. He was leading them towards the pond.

"Are we going to feed the ducks?" She asked dryly and he snickered.

"If you're up to it." He replied cockily and she shook her head.

"You're out of your wits."

She gasped as he tugged on the reins and abruptly swung his legs off the horse. He hopped down and tapped her leg.

"Come on." He called as he walked towards the water.

Chantal grimaced, but slid down the horse easily. She tied the stallion to a tree and then approached the pond only to realize that she was missing a slipper.

"Wonderful." she breathed, "I lost my footwear!" She exclaimed, but he didn't acknowledge her.

Frowning, she walked towards him, feeling ridiculous with only one slipper on. Giving up, she threw the other slipper away and walked the rest of the way barefoot.

"What are we doing here?" She asked and he whirled around to face her. His hands encircled her waist and he pushed her back until her back collided with a tree trunk. She gasped, "What-…"

"I need a wife." He said cutting her off and causing her to gasp even louder.

"What…What?!"

"I thought I was clear before. Yet, there you were asking me, _wondering_, what I wanted. Are you really that stupid?"  
Chantal pushed at his chest with all her might. "I probably am since I am still here! Your mood swings are making me dizzy!"  
"_You_ are making me dizzy!" He snarled as he pushed away from her and started pacing.

"Me?" she whispered with shock and he stopped pacing to look at her.

"Yes, you. I don't even…" He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts, "My mother is pressuring me to marry again, so is the King so he can flaunt you all over Europe and Anne…Well, Ms. Gardor has high dreams." He spat as he turned and fixed her with a glare.

"I'd rather jump off London Bridge than marry her."

Chantal gaped at him, "You were serious?" She whispered and he leaned down to her.

"I am always serious about things that matter."

"That's not very romantic." She informed him and he cocked an eyebrow. His hand reached up and traced her cheek.

"I didn't think you cared for romance." He smirked and she pulled her face away.

"Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"That's not an answer!"

"It's the only one I've got." He snapped.

"Now that is not true, is it?" She asked quietly and he stared at her until he sneered.

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

Chantal decided to play as well, "I think I shall wait until you are properly drunk to answer." She informed him, attempting to walk away.

He blocked her way with his body.

"I knew you were interested." He murmured with a sly smirk.

She was suddenly upset, "You're making it sound like a business transaction."

"I wouldn't kiss a business partner until he or she begged for it." He replied crudely and she blinked, gazing at him with utter confusion.

"Why not Anne?"

"She wouldn't kiss me." He deadpanned and her nostrils flared.

"Stop teasing."

"I am rather serious." He started circling her, "The other day she refused to drink from my glass." His lips touched her cheek, "But she let me fuck her. What is that?"

"Stupidity." Chantal replied rather swiftly and her eyes widened at her own words.

He was amused though, "Exactly. See? We see eye to eye. Think about it. You and me. The beautiful new actress and the King's favorite Earl. The theatre wouldn't stop bringing in money. They would _beg_ you to work for them. The whole London stage would be in a fuss over you. You could even build your own bloody theatre or buy it off from these old pricks."

"You are relying on my vanity. You forget that I barely have any." She told him as he came to face her. He smiled.

"No, dear heart. I am relying on my belief that you will triumph. The King wants us to get involved into some awful diplomatic schemes…I detest politics, but they do earn me a good commission. A commission I desperately need." His eyes were burning with intensity, but she wasn't fooled. There was more behind his offer.

"And you'd make me the new Lady of Rochester? You're mad. I am no one." She shook her head, "But I do not think that is the reason behind your decision and generous offer."

"Do tell." He almost snarled and she smiled softly.

"I can safely say that you are fond of me, but that'd be too presumptuous. So, I will say that despite your vivid declarations against it you miss the comfort of a woman. Your issue is so easily solved, but you cannot see it."

"And what makes you think that?" He spat, but he didn't deny her comment.

"I'd like to think that I do have little bit of foolishness in me…Otherwise I'd be dull. So, forgive me if I say that I've seen the way you look at me sometimes…"

He tensed up and sneered, "How do I look at you?"

Chantal looked at her bare feet, "Someone claimed that you gaze at me like I am the last ray of sunshine, but I disagree. I think that sometimes you wish to smother me…And I know why."

She stepped closer and he looked down at her, his eyes hooded.

"Pray tell." His voice was tight and she almost fled; _almost_

"I think that you like me, my Lord." She breathed at last.

His nostrils flared, but she continued.

"Not in a passionate way or even a lusty one. No… Not even as a friend, me thinks. I daresay that sometimes you think of me as something akin to a pillow…Something soft, something that you can rest your head on after a long day…Am I wrong? I beg you to answer me." She murmured and he clenched his fists.

"You think that I feel _comfortable_ around you. That I _need_ you." He spat the words out with fury, but she simply gazed at him.

"And you're satisfied with that? Wouldn't you rather I desired you as a woman?" He asked her as his eyes roamed her form.

"But I think you do. You just don't want to ruin the comfort." She stepped back and his eyes narrowed with something similar to appraisal…or derision.

"For the first time…you sound confident. I only hope that it won't stop here." He muttered as he leaned down and picked up the discarded riding crop.

"I had a good master." She replied and his lips twitched for the first time into something besides a sneer.

"You're getting rather comfortable around me too, Chantal…Be careful or you might end up taking Ms. Gardor's place…I think you need a good shag more than her. You and my mother would be great confidants." He moved past her and patted her thigh and then her backside with the crop.

"I'll take your lengthy speech as a yes. Another thing we have in common. We both use our tongues well." He turned towards her and walked backwards with his eyes on her face, "I _do_ like you, Chantal. Don't let me down." He slapped the crop against his palm decisively and then beckoned her closer.

"Come along. I need to go and see Jane tomorrow." He turned on his heel and grabbed the horse's reins. She was shocked at his abrupt tone and at the sudden end he put on their discussion.

She approached the horse slowly. He didn't help her up this time and she was glad that he didn't touch her.

Very glad.

**End of chapter 12**

**Author's note: Hehe, thank you for reading. I doubt you thought he was serious about the marriage thing, but he was…Not my fault! He's been nagging about wanting a new wife so, I had to give in. The Earl can be very persuasive! :p**

**So, comments? Liked it? Hated it? I need your thoughts!**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina ;o)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello and welcome back!**

**I want to thank my wonderful reviewers: TinkerbellxO, Jay D. Moore, XantheXV, Newland Archer, MissMisc3, dionne dance, Frenzy In Delirium, ElleWillBite, Leyshla Gisel, ForeverACharmedOne and lottielovebuzz.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

_**My hopes your self contriv'd with cruel care**_

_**Through gentle smiles to lead me to despair, **_

'_**Tis some relief in my extreme distress**_

_**My rival is below your power to bless.**_

_**~John Wilmot, Could I but make my wishes insolent**_

Chantal ignored the obnoxious chatter and looked at her half open door. Abandoning her book, she walked over to it, daring to steal a glance down the hall. She had half a mind to strain her ears and listen, but she didn't. Leaving the Earl to his own devices with his friend and mistress, she shut the door instead and leaned against it for a moment.

Clearing her head from the various thoughts that had been plaguing it for days, she focused her gaze on the text on top of her large bed. Wasting no time, she picked it up and without looking at it she started practicing the lines again. Her stomach was twisted into little tight knots of displeasure when she reminded herself that she would have to act on stage without her text and without the safety of her room. Nevertheless, she had to practice the scene one last time. Before she went to bed.

"_Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day, as is the night before some festival to an impatient child that hath new robes, and may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, and she brings news; and every tongue that speaks but Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence."_

Apparently, she hadn't heard the door opening because she continued.

"_Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?"_

"_Ay, ay, the cords.__" _The female voice was smooth and warm and Chantal whirled around to face the intruder only to see the smiling face of Nell Gwyn. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who it was. In her hands she held a cup of what looked like chamomile.

Nell gently flourished her hand, encouraging to carry on with her rehearsal and Chantal smiled.

"_Ay me! What news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?"_

Nell placed the cup on the bed side table and straightened, her face transforming as her hands slid behind her and gathered her long luscious hair in a bun. Chantal wanted to laugh at the sight of the beautiful pregnant woman posing as an elderly lady.

"_Ah, well-a-day! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone! Alack the day! He's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!"_

"_Can heaven be so envious?"_

" _Romeo can, though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!"_

Chantal was impressed. Even her voice resembled an older woman's deeper timbre.

She was suddenly nervous. The woman was far more experienced than her, and here she was, rehearsing a role that would have been hers if she wasn't pregnant.

Clearing her throat, she proceeded while trying to ignore the presence of the other actress.

"_What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' and that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: I am not I, if there be such an I; Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe."_

Nell's eyes narrowed slightly, but she continued, _"I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,- God save the mark!-Here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, all in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight."_ She clutched a hand at her chest in fright as she spoke and only then did Chantal notice that the door was open. She dreaded being heard by the other guest and the Earl.

Nell clapped her hands together, snapping her out of her fears sharply and she shook her head in determination before she continued.

"_O, break, my heart! Poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; and thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!"_

"_O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! Honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead!"_

"_What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone?"_

"_Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished."_

"_O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?"_

Footsteps, dreadful footsteps started approaching and Chantal glared at Nell who only shrugged innocently in response. Reining her anger in, Chantal continued, deeply regretting her choice to remain awake and practice. She hadn't expected an audience.

"_It did, it did; alas the day, it did!"_

"_O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! Wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show!" _She almost stopped when more faces appeared peering through the door and Chantal nearly stumbled when a certain pair of eyes fell upon her heavily. He couldn't have approached at a more opportune moment.

"_Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, a damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, when thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend in moral paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter so fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace!" _She stopped and took a deep breath, quickly averting her eyes from the Earl's lecherously amused face. She wanted to smack him for looking so smug at his accomplishment. He had thought that she'd stop just because he appeared with the redhead next to him? Not a chance. Ms. Gardor's cool reserve towards her was no longer intimidating.

"Why, Ms. Gwyn, you make a lovely nurse." He drawled instead of commenting on Chantal's speech and Nell turned around and smiled.

"Spying on us, are you? Not polite…Fiend." She narrowed her eyes playfully before she turned towards Chantal, "Lovely work, Ms. Paige. Now put away those lines and let's go downstairs for a drink. I think you need it."

"I thought you brought me chamomile." Chantal smiled a little and Nell blinked.

"That's for me, love." She winked and she picked up the cup and took a sip, "You need something stronger than _dull_ chamomile to give you a boost. You're too tense for tomorrow. My Lord? Am I right?" She turned to Rochester who already had his fingers wrapped around a goblet of red wine.

Silently, he pushed away from the door frame, his body brushing Anne's as he went, and walked straight for Chantal. Without looking away from her eyes, he slowly outstretched his hand, offering her his drink and she paused. Her eyes darted quickly towards the two women. Anne was looking ready to object, her eyes wide and beady and Nell was looking oddly pleased and proud of herself. What the hell were those two planning?

Clearing her throat, Chantal walked a step closer to him and without looking at him, she accepted his glass. His fingers at first lingered around the glass, allowing the brushing of her own fingers over his, and she had to look at him in order for him to release his hold on the glass. As she did so, his mouth twitched charmingly, in a small smirk that was not mocking and she was startled. Abruptly, he let go of the glass and took a step closer. Leaning down, he pressed his warm and slightly moist lips on her forehead. Chantal took a long sip to hide her shock and Nell clapped her hands.

"Oh, how lovely! Don't they look charming? Even their height is perfect. Your mother will be proud, my Lord. Have you spoken to her lately?"

Chantal flushed deeply and almost finished the wine in one go when his fingertips went through her hair in a caress.

Pulling away from her skin, Rochester whirled swiftly around, his movement betraying none of the nervousness Chantal felt under Ms. Gardor's scrutiny.

"I have not. The road to Adderbury is lost to floods and mud again. But I will contact her shortly." He replied smoothly as he started putting away Chantal's lines, arranging them neatly on her desk by the window.

"How wonderful." Nell smiled and then turned to Anne, "Why are you standing there? Afraid to come in? I assure you brilliance is not contagious."

Anne tensed up at that and abruptly stepped inside, "Do you mean something by that, Nell? That I am jealous?"

Chantal almost choked on the wine and covered her mouth with her hand at that reply.

Odd. The woman seemed…angry. Her eyes flickered towards the Earl who was staring at Anne coolly.

Nell smiled indulgently, "Well, you seemed odd standing there." She defended and then raised her cup in the air, "Cheers. Good luck, Chantal, though I don't think you shall need it."

Chantal inclined her head and eyed the glass for a moment.

"Well, it's late." Anne's voice was loud and high pitched and for some reason it made the Earl chuckle.

"Then perhaps we should all retire." He announced as he twirled the pot of ink on Chantal's desk and then proceeded to brush his fingers over her quill.

"Oh yes! But first, is there anything to nibble on?" Nell asked with a playful smile before she headed for the door, "I can stay the night, can't I? Your house is enormous, my Lord."

"Ah, yes. Grandness is one of my many talents." He winked and then waved his hand down the hall, "Help yourself to the kitchen. It's been recently stocked."

Nell sent him a kiss and he smirked before he turned to Anne, "Shall I show you one of the guest rooms?" He looked at her and she seemed to be boiling with anger at his question.

"_Guest_ room?"

Rochester blinked and came to stand next to Chantal. He paused for a moment and then reached out to take her glass. He took a small, almost grounding sip and then handed it back. Anne's gaze fell on Chantal, and the actress, mindful of the Earl's lingering saliva on the glass took another sip to steady herself.

What on earth was he doing? What was he trying to prove with his actions?

"Yes, guest room." Rochester said slowly, almost wearily, "Come. I will show you the room."

His hand brushed Chantal's lower back as he went and Anne noticed. Her posture changed suddenly and she lifted her chin.

"I don't want to stay in a guest room. So, you'll just have to drive me back to London." She informed him and Chantal paused, her eyes widening at the woman's cheek.

The Earl didn't seem surprised. It was as if making her leave had been his very clear intention.

"Take you back? Certainly. I will call for the carriage to be in front of the driveway in less than half an hour." He nodded his head and Anne's eyes went wide with shock.

"I…I…" she sputtered and then closed her mouth, "Excellent." She turned and headed down the hall in a billow of skirts.

Chantal watched the Earl as his eyes followed the woman's retreating back. He had a half smirk on his pink lips and when she was gone he turned to face Chantal. She was startled by the look in his eyes.

"What are you-…"

"The nurse's role has changed. As from tonight. Mr. Killigrew has agreed to include another actress in the production." His words were sharp, but held a tinge of warmth in them and for a moment she didn't know what to say.

"Who has now the role?" she asked, lowering the glass from her mouth and suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with it in her hand. She realized that what he had made her do in front of others had been too private and he most certainly wanted to make a point.

"Ms. Gwyn. She still has a couple of months till her delivery and she fits the role better." He replied and she cleared her throat.

"Nell decided to take part as a…second name? How on earth-…"

"Ms. Gwyn will do anything I ask because she is fond of me, Chantal. A rare thing when it comes to women and me." He stared at her unblinkingly and she averted her eyes.

"My Lord, thank you…" she murmured and he made to leave, but she quickly reached out and took hold of his hand. His body seemed to freeze at the touch and he quickly turned to look at her, his eyes dark.

"Yes?" He looked down at her with a knitted brow, his eyes flickering towards her hand on his forearm.

"You're playing a dangerous game, my Lord." she whispered as she swallowed hard, "What are you trying to prove?"

Rochester blinked and then turned towards her fully, his lips betraying his amusement at her nervousness.

"What you so desperately wish to deny." He turned his hand and caught her wrist, guiding her fingers towards his stomach and pressing her palm against his shirt.

"Deny what?"

"That you and I fit. We suit each other. That only a woman like you would ever dare touch me like you did before. If Anne had tried to stop me from leaving I would have cut her arm off like an annoying tentacle." His words were murmured and she quickly pulled her hand away from his stomach.

"You want to show her that she can't have what she wants. But I would think that she has what she wants." She muttered.

"What she wants is what you have been offered. The rest is just done out of necessity." He dismissed cruelly.

"Necessity?" Chantal scowled, "You're sleeping with her out of necessity?"

He laughed, he actually laughed, and with a swift move, he slammed her chamber door shut.

"_She_ is sleeping with me out necessity. Me…Let's just say that shagging is as necessary to me as breathing…And in some cases I prefer to be able to acquire it easily and without much cost."

She narrowed her eyes, "That's ugly."

"I've never claimed that it's not." He answered slyly.

"So, what did you just get out of this show?" She waved her hand around and he frowned.

"Show? I was under my impression that my fondness towards your kind disposition was obvious. You claimed so a few days ago. And I must say, Chantal, that your appreciation for me is visible even from afar." His eyes did a quick perusal of her face and she flushed.

"Well, of course. I'd be ungrateful if I didn't care for the man who helped me." She muttered and he caught her chin between his fingers.

"I don't want your care." He mumbled, "I want you to love me with a passion…"

She inhaled sharply and then he grinned, "At least in front of others." He added and she blinked the embarrassment away as he carried on.

"So, when I do this," he leaned down and flicked his tongue across her bottom lip before he pressed a small kiss there, "I want you to melt. Can you do that?" His palm fell heavy and hot on her lower back, dangerously close to her backside and she pulled back.

"Then you wouldn't have a reason to seek someone else's company. People would think you mad if you sought for something that was right in front of you." Her voice quivered slightly and he blinked as if confused.

"Who confuses love with lust, my darling? Hmm? Besides, no one would be confused when it came to me." Abruptly he released her and headed for the door.

"Oh and another thing…" He paused without looking at her, "Your speech was good. _Sleep_ or I'll burn the play until it's nothing but ashes."

With that, he opened the door and left her chamber.

Chantal stood frozen with his glass in her hand, staring at the closed door with wide eyes. With increasing dread, she finished the wine and clutched the goblet between her trembling fingers.

His wonderful plan was ready to backfire…Only that it would backfire just for her.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"It was a good scene, was it not? I think we did well…" Mr. Mountfort murmured as they headed for the dressing rooms.

Chantal balled her hands into fists, "Of course. Very well for some, very dreadful for others." She muttered in return, her eyes looking, but failing to see a familiar face.

"Ms. Paige?" he sounded confused and she had enough.

"Drop the façade, Mr. Mountfort. Perhaps you think me too naïve or too proper to comment on it, but you sir, are a fool if you think that I don't know what acting means." She whirled around to face him and Nell who was resting in one of the chairs looked up at them.

"Ms. Paige!" he exclaimed with shock, "I meant no offence. What have I done?"

"Chantal?" Nell called, but Chantal ignored her.

"I might be new upon this stage, but believe me when I say that I know what a stage kiss is and how it's supposed to be. So, next time, kind sir, be weary of slipping your tongue down my throat. You might find it missing when you dislodge your greedy lips from mine. Am I clear?" She whispered, her voice a hiss and the actor blushed bright red at her words, his eyes darting away with guilt.

"I…" he stammered, but Nell's loud laughter rang in the air around them.

Both actors turned to look at her as she clutched her belly with mirth in her eyes.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed and Chantal flushed for propriety's sake, "Mr. Mountfort, I would hold my affections for those who wish them. Not everyone will be just as kind." She narrowed her eyes and Chantal was glad that at least one was on her side.

"Ms. Gwyn! What are you insinuating?" he asked with anger, but the beautiful actress was not intimidated in the least.

"I mean that you shouldn't outreach yourself. Heavens… Go and wipe that brow of yours. You're sweating like a pig and forgive the comparison. Chantal, come and sit." She patted the chair next to her and Mr. Mountfort made his exit quickly without looking back.

Chantal took a seat and accepted the mug of water that was handed to her.

"Oh, love, don't worry about him. Calm down. You were wonderful."

"I doubt it. Is he like that with everyone?" Chantal frowned when she took a sip from the mug, "What's in this?" she asked and Nell winked.

"Just a few drops of rum. It's relaxing." Chantal gaped at her, but the other actress continued, "And yes, he is like that with anyone who grabs his attention…Next time, bite him."

Chantal flushed and cleared her throat, "I already did…"

"Ms. Paige!" At the sound of the Earl's voice both women stood up, Nell wincing in the process.

"Bloody hell, my Lord. You gave us a fright. Beware of my fragile condition." She was teasing, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were dark and his expression bemused.

"Then perhaps you should retire from your role. You'd do us all a favour because you're rather obnoxious when with child, madam." He hissed dismissively and Chantal was suddenly wary of his sour mood.

"My Lord, is everything alright-…"

"You're out, madam. Head to the stage before you're late." He cut her off sharply, his wavy hair framing his face and partly obscuring his features as he turned towards the other side.

"I was about to…."

"Then do so! It's the first night. You're not to come back here unless you need to change your costume! I won't come to fetch you again." He hissed before he disappeared behind the curtains.

Chantal turned towards Nell and stared at her helplessly.

"Good Lord…" Ms. Gwyn breathed, but Chantal quickly walked away to get to the gallery.

"He's bloody jealous." Nell finished before she laughed softly to herself and resumed her seat, her eyes sparkling with newfound information.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I have to say, Ms. Paige that you make the sweetest Juliet ever. I am enthralled. Well done."

Chantal curtsied and smiled gently as the King gazed at her.

"You'll make me blush, Your Majesty." She straightened and folded her hands in front of her belly, her eyes darting around in a futile effort to find Rochester, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"You've earned the praise. Isn't that so, Mr. Killigrew?" The King turned to the playhouse manager who looked proud.

"Indeed. Chantal, ask me anything. You deserve it." He smiled and she chuckled.

"Thank you, sir, but I ask for nothing more than to be worthy of your kind words and respect." She replied quietly and Ms. Gwyn clapped her hands.

"Come, come. You all have congratulated her now. So, how about me? Isn't my belly appropriate for my role?" She batted her eyelashes prettily and everyone laughed while the Earl of Dorset snorted.

"At last someone who looks like me upon this stage." He announced as he took a sip from his glass.

Chantal smiled, but her stomach was twisted into knots of fear. The only man whose opinion she trusted completely was not there yet and it made her anxious; too anxious. She feared that she had somehow displeased him. Her fear increased when she recalled his brusque tone in the dressing rooms.

"More wine?" Nell offered and Chantal took her second glass, her head already heavy with concern to care.

"So, will the play be performed every day?" The King asked, drawing his attention from Chantal and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Five times a week, Your Majesty. Let us not forget Ms. Gardor's opera piece." Ms. Killigrew replied and Chantal tensed up at the mention of Anne's name. Oddly enough, she too was missing from their company.

Convincing herself that she didn't care, Chantal raised the wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that burned her throat, but calmed her racing heartbeat.  
"My, my, Johnny. By the end of this, you'll have turned our dear Ms. Paige into a drunkard." The King's voice startled her first and then the hand that came and fell heavily on her lower back was enough to make her jump.

A husky chuckle echoed in her ears as a warm breath fell heavy on her cheek.

"Nonsense. My dear Chantal is only getting used to our lecherous company, aren't you, darling?" Lips connected almost deliriously with her cheek and she ignored the way Mr. Mountfort's gaze was burning holes on her face. She didn't have to look to know that the Earl's eyes were on the young actor as well.

Forcing a smile, she allowed to be guided closer to Rochester's warm body and she let him take her glass for himself. He took a long sip as his fingers started toying with the laces of her dark midnight blue dress. All eyes were on them until the King broke the silence.

"So, where have you been? Lurking in some dark corner?"

Rochester smirked and lowered the glass from his lips, twirling it between his fingers.

"Ah, your Majesty. How well you know me…_not_." He grinned and Chantal saw that his eyes were dark and glimmering.

"Oh? Is that so?" The King was interested and Ms. Gwyn was staring with wide eyes as the Earl removed his hand from Chantal's waist and slipped it into his coat pocket.

"I just left to bring this." He produced a pouch and Chantal frowned while Nell smirked a little and leaned towards the King who allowed the movement much to Chantal's shock.

"What…Oh." The King seemed surprised and Chantal was suddenly furious that everyone seemed to understand while she didn't.

"I beg your pardon, but what is…"

Her speech was cut off when something cold and heavy was draped over her collarbones. She froze when Rochester slipped behind her and brushed his fingers along her neck.

"See, I needed to make this evening even more…unique. I find it tiresome to hide behind facades." He fastened the necklace around Chantal's neck and let her hair tumble down her shoulders in golden waves before he leaned forward to look at his gift.

"Here I present you with the future Lady of Rochester." His voice was a purr and Chantal almost fainted. Her head turned sharply towards him and their eyes locked. His gaze, dark and bottomless challenged her to deny his words and she bit her tongue hard in order not to ruin his perfect plan. Looking away from the Earl's eyes in fear of appearing too shocked, she smiled and fingered the necklace. It was gripping her neck like a vice it seemed. Her breath started getting heavier and she was saved by Nell's voice.

"Oh, how lovely. Look how she is blushing. Your Majesty, say something or our dear Ms. Paige will expire before the next performance!" She exclaimed warmly and the King smiled.

"We don't want that. Very well done, Johnny. You chose well. Ms. Paige, welcome to out world." The King flourished his walking stick and she bowed her head, almost swaying on her feet before two hands grasped her waist to steady her discreetly.

"Your Majesty." Rochester inclined his head, "I am ever thankful for your excellent guidance." He smirked, but Chantal could hear the mild sarcasm in his voice.

"Excellent news. Don't you think, Mr. Killigrew?"

The older man snapped out of his daze and quickly nodded his head.

"Wonderful news, my Lord." He inclined his head and then Rochester's eyes fell on William Mountfort who was staring at them with an open mouth.

Chantal wanted to smack both Mountfort and the Earl.

"What do you think, young Master William? Do you approve?" Rochester asked him with a smirk and Chantal looked up at him. His handsome features were shadowed by his hat, but she could see the wicked glimmering of his eyes.

Mountfort blinked out of his shock, "Who am I to approve of your Lordship's decisions? I am most happy." He answered swiftly and Rochester cocked an eyebrow.

"Indeed." He looked at the King, "Now if you'll excuse us. It's a long way to Woodstock in the dark." He bowed and took Chantal's hand, guiding her towards the exit.

"I shall arrange new rooms at Hampton Court for you, Johnny. It will be easier for Ms. Paige." The King announced and Chantal almost stumbled by the onslaught of news coming her way.

Rochester's grin was feral, "You're too kind and gracious, Your Majesty." He bowed and Chantal followed his example before they took their leave.

She blinked numerously as they stepped out in the chilly night and then looked at the Earl.

"You're a fiend." She hissed and he threw his head back and laughed as he guided her towards the carriage.

"You're too cruel, dear heart." He breathed as he shook a slumbering Alcock awake.

The servant jolted awake and quickly stood up, stifling a yawn as he opened the coach door for them.

Rochester scowled at him, "Fool." He muttered, but Alcock grinned at him groggily without speaking.

Chantal pulled her hand free and Rochester turned to look at her bored, one hand on the coach's door.

"You're unbelievable. What you just did…"

"Get inside, Chantal. You'll make a scene." He narrowed his eyes at her in warning and she quickly obeyed with a huff. She plopped down on the squab as he followed her and shut the door.

"You're so arrogant. You think that just because I didn't make a scene in front of the King, I will accept whatever obscenity you throw my way?" she whispered aghast and he removed his hat before he turned to fix her with a stare.

"You didn't object."

"I couldn't object! You thrust an ultimatum on my face with this." She touched the necklace around her neck and his nostrils flared.

"That, _my love_, is a family heirloom. Every Countess of Rochester wore it. My late _wife_ wore this until they had to bury her." His voice was quiet, but oh so dark.

Chantal gulped at the look in his eyes. He seemed wounded and she was momentarily speechless.

"And I am telling you again; you didn't object."

Her eyes closed briefly, "My Lord, I couldn't object." She was weary and her tone showed it.

"Like you couldn't object when Mr. Mountfort decided to thrust his rapier's tongue down your lovely throat?"

Her eyes snapped wide open at the blatant accusation and disgust in his voice and she gasped.

"How dare you-…"

He growled and his hands reached for her arms. He tugged her onto his side of the carriage and his hand curled around her throat. He slammed her roughly against the coach's side and she gasped.

"I dare because I can. And since your mouth is as willing as a whore's slit…" He trailed off before he kissed her.

Chantal momentarily froze, but when he tried to deepen the kiss, she slipped her hands up his stomach until she had them pressed against his chest. She gave a rough push and he broke the kiss. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand shot out and connected with his cheek in a sharp smack. His eyes widened and his mouth went slack once the sting blossomed on his pale cheek, but she wasn't sorry.

"I should have bit you instead, you bastard. Like I did to him." She whispered and his eyes snapped back to hers with fire in them.

"Chantal-…"

"My Lord! We must stop for a moment. The road is-…" Alcock groaned and then there was a sudden thud. He had fallen off.

Chantal whirled around as she stood up and opened the carriage door. Without waiting for help, she climbed out of the coach. Her feet slipped into the mud, but she didn't care. She ignored the fact that her clothes were stained with filth and started walking further towards the side of the road where the grass was making it easier for her to walk.

"Ms. Paige!" Alcock's voice was shocked, but she kept walking.

Footsteps behind her caused her to pick up her pace, but then a hand grabbed her elbow, pulling her back.

"Chantal! Get back inside. _Now_." She looked up at him briefly before she tugged her arm free.

"No, my Lord. I shall walk." She whispered as she blinked back the angry tears.

His hand caught hers again, "I won't say it again." His voice was quiet unlike before, but she was too ruffled to sit next to him.

"I will _walk_."

"To Woodstock?" His voice was incredulous.

"Yes." Her gaze was murderous and he released her. When she started walking again she didn't make it far. An arm curled around her waist and pulled her back to him.

"Chantal…" he murmured quietly as he cradled the side of her face with his warm palm, "Stop." He breathed into her hair and her shoulders slumped. If it was the apology she wanted she didn't know, but suddenly all energy left her. Lingering a moment longer, she pulled out of his arms and silently made her way back to the carriage. He followed her in silence and when she took notice of his red cheek she didn't feel satisfaction for hitting him.

She had been right; his plan was already backfiring against her…

**End of chapter 13**

**Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Liked it? Hated it? Please, leave me a comment before you go? I am nervous about this chapter…but I had fun writing it! So, thoughts?**

**If you want to see a picture of the necklace, go to my FB or Tumblr. ;o)**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello and welcome back! How is everyone's summer going? Here it's pretty hot…Grrr…**

**So, I want to thank: XantheXV, lottielovebuzz, MissMisc3, guest, Newland Archer, TinkerbellxO, dionne dance, Leyshla Gisel and Frenzy In Delirium. Thank you all for your kind words.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

_**You are not naturally austere, any more than I'm naturally vicious. I can see in you the glance of a curious bird through the close set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless captive. Were it but free, it would soar. Cloud high.**_

_**~Jane Eyre**_

_A vase of daisies was on top of her bedside table. She smiled. Her sister had always loved flowers. She had always made sure to have fresh ones every day. Their little backdoor garden was always blessed with blossoms in the spring. _

_Upon seeing them, she stirred and blinked groggily. She felt as if she had slept for days…Everything was numb from the waist down and-…_

_Her eyes snapped open with a start. She sat up on her thin mattress, her elbows supporting her weight. Her eyes searched wildly for the blood, but it was gone. She raised the covers and looked at her bandaged stomach and belly. She suddenly wanted to vomit. The smell of blood was pungent, strong even from beneath the cloth. More linen cloths were resting between her legs and she didn't need to see in order to be sure that she was bleeding down there._

_The wind blew and it slammed her window against the wall, causing her to jerk and jump upon the mattress. She placed a hand on her belly and felt the thick texture of the bandage. The skin underneath felt pulled taut and it stung, and she knew why. They had sewed her up. She could feel the wound all along the expanse of her belly burning her slowly, subtly and she knew why her head felt so heavy. They had given her something for the pain._

_She looked at her small chamber and slowly turned her gaze upon the half open door to her left._

_Blinking drowsily, she leaned back on her pillow, trying to ignore the foul taste on her lips and tongue. Whatever they had given her was strong._

"_Sister?" she called mildly, a frown on her face. No reply._

"_Anne?" _

_The wind blew again and she blinked rapidly, pushing her hair behind her ear as the breeze tousled it._

"_I'm coming!" The voice was light, but extremely clear and…bright. It brought a frown on Chantal's face. Why was Anne so happy? The last time Chantal had seen her, right after her accident, she had been panicked and alarmed at all the blood…Now…Now she sounded happy._

_Footsteps thudded on their old floorboards and she tensed up at the sound. It sounded as if someone was running._

_Wincing, she sat up again and looked at the entrance, waiting, dreading the news that she knew wouldn't be good. She could feel how badly torn her insides were. She felt as if she had been speared with a hot rod despite the drug that was running in her system and pumping relief through her veins._

_The door was pushed open by her sister who was grinning broadly…Something was not right._

"_Chantal! You're awake. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? The doctor said it'd be normal if you were." Anne rushed to her side and clasped her hands tightly, gently rubbing them with her calloused fingers._

"_I…I am in pain…What happened?" Chantal eyed her sister with confusion, but Anne was still smiling, her honey brown hair billowing with the wind that was still coming in through the open window._

_Anne paused at her question, "What happened?" she frowned and pulled back a little, "What are you saying? Don't you remember?"_

_Chantal slowly shook her head, feeling embarrassed when her sister blinked in astonishment._

"_Do you have a fever? The doctor gave you laudanum for the pain so it might be the reason of your…confusion." Anne's cool hand found her forehead, "You seem a little hot. Let me check if you're still bleeding." She smiled and pushed the covers away, her hands slowly searching for further bleeding._

"_I am." Chantal had the urge to clamp her legs shut, but she knew that she shouldn't. Her sister only cared for her welfare._

"_It will stop in a day. That's what the physician said. Don't worry. I'll bring you some tea and I am sure you want to see her." Anne smiled and fixed the covers around her again, bathing her in warmth once more. Why was she so cold? She was surrounded by heavy covers for God's sake!_

"_Who?" Chantal gazed at her sister with perplexity and Anne paused._

"_Oh, dear…I'm never letting Mr. Phillips give you that vile thing again. It messes with your head. And here I thought I was the silly one." She chuckled and leaned down to kiss Chantal's forehead._

"_Wait a moment. Mother!" she called and Chantal froze._

"_Mother? Why are you calling for mother? Mother is dead, Anne. Are you alright? You're speaking nonsense." Chantal grasped her sister's hand and looked at her with worry despite the blossoming pain in her insides._

"_You are the one talking nonsense. Now hush. Mother! Come or she'll drive me into madness!" Anne called again and then scowled, "You're making me yell and she'll be alarmed, poor thing." She tugged her hand free and walked over to the door, opening it wide with a broad smile on her lips._

"_Is she awake?" Her mother's melodious voice rang in the hall and Chantal gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth in shock. _

_Her back connected roughly with the bed's headboard as soon as her mother's figure appeared inside her chamber. She looked beautiful and very much alive, an ethereal light around her. She looked like an angel. Her golden hair was gathered at her nape in a bun and a few tendrils had escaped, framing her face beautifully._

_Chantal's eyes moved lower and she paused. In her mother's arms was…There was a bundle of blankets. Two tiny legs were protruding, adorned with rosy, wiggly toes. It was a baby. A baby. Her mother had a baby? A baby? A child? She was surely dreaming…_

"_What is that? Is it yours?" Chantal spoke quietly and behind her shaky fingers._

_Her mother looked at her sister and laughed warmly before she shook her head and started walking towards her._

"_Don't be silly, child. At my age? Don't you remember that you made this? That you had it inside you? Anne, prepare strong tea for your sister. She thinks she's dreaming if I judge from the look on her face." She chuckled and then she started leaning towards Chantal._

"_Look. Isn't she beautiful? No one would ever believe that she was the cause of so much pain and blood…She seems so innocent." Her mother's gray eyes bore into her own with agony, "And yet, she can be reason for extreme pain…and misery if she's ever gone…Am I wrong, daughter?"_

_Chantal's eyes stared at the child with unblinking intensity. It couldn't be…She…It was an illusion. Reaching out and not really feeling the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, she pushed the blanket aside. The baby's face greeted her. The child was smiling…as much as a newborn baby could and her tiny eyes were wide and open, and staring right at Chantal._

_Her fingertips touched the baby's cheek and she couldn't tell why the child seemed so familiar…It was like she had seen the baby before. The eyes…The eyes were a dark brown and almond shaped. Very much like his-…_

_She gasped when she saw the crimson stains of the baby's cheek. It was her fingers…They were bloodied and sticky with the thick liquid. She looked up at her mother only to see her smiling gently down at her._

"_See? Everything is possible…Everything-…"_

_The child's loud wailing overpowered her mother's words and Chantal was suddenly very much aware of all the blood around her body._

_She tried to reach for the child, but it was snatched away from her and her mother by invisible hands. The crying caused her to shudder and she tried to move, but the scene started dissolving around her by a heavy pounding that sounded like a storm. Light speared her vision and she cried out, thrashing upon the bed and then-…_

Her eyes opened when the knocks on the door became more insistent. She shot up on the bed and looked frantically around her. She rubbed her hands together, seeking signs of blood, but her fingers and palms were clean, albeit a little sweaty. Lowering them upon her lap, she looked at her large bedroom and sighed in relief. It was a dream…No, a memory that had been blurred, altered into a dream.

Her eyes felt a little foggy and so she blinked them, her hands smoothing down the covers, feeling relief when she felt them dry and fresh.

"Ms. Paige! Are you dead?" Alcock's voice disturbed her musings and she looked at the door.

"Yes?" she called shakily, the remnants of the dream still strong in front of her eyes.

"Breakfast is served, ma'am. The Earl's waiting." Alcock's footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked away and she frowned.

"Breakfast? Since when does he take breakfast?" she muttered with irritation before she swung her legs over the bed and stood up. She walked barefoot towards the washroom. She glanced flittingly at the necklace on her vanity. It mocked her with its beauty.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I won't hear it again. The child is old enough to drink regular milk now. Your services are no longer required. You have a week." The Earl's voice was distant as he spoke to Nellie and Chantal frowned.

He was sending the wet-nurse away? Why?

"Good morning." She spoke up and the young woman looked at her with teary eyes before she nodded her head and hastily walked out of the room.

Chantal watched her go with confusion before she looked at Rochester's back. He was tapping his fingers on the table, his right hand brushing the rim of his teacup.

"My Lord?" she called as she made her way towards him.

His shoulders rose and fell before he turned to look at her.

"Chantal." He muttered and she inclined her head.

"What ever is the matter?" She took a seat to his right and his eyes fell upon her, dark, heavy and blank.

"Nothing."

"I heard you're dismissing Nellie?" She ventured and his mouth twitched.

"Indeed."

"If I may ask…Why?"

His eyes turned sharp at her question.

"Are you questioning my decisions? The child no longer needs a wet-nurse and I cannot afford one either. The King's treasury is lacking and until our union there will be no commission for me." He threw his napkin away, "Keeping the wet-nurse would mean depending on my mother's charity and I'd rather drink piss than ask for her help." He looked away, out of the window and Chantal cocked an eyebrow.

"I see…Have you always been so proud?"

He looked back at her, "Have you always been this foolish?"

"Why do you want to take a foolish wife?"

"Maybe because I have had enough experience with a wise one." His lip curled into a smirk and she flushed.

"I never agreed to marry you, my Lord." She pointed out and he snorted.

"Are you sure?" His eyes were sparkling with triumph and she huffed.

"Just because I returned to the carriage doesn't mean-…"

"Why is it so abhorrent to you?" He asked as he abruptly stood and walked around towards her, 'Hmm? You don't seem to dread my company and we are already living together. It's just a matter of legality and nothing more." He grasped her armrests and turned her towards him, jolting her and she swallowed hard.

"Marriage is not supposed to be just a legality issue, my Lord." She started slowly, "At least not to me."

He pulled back at that and he pursed his mouth, "You are very stubborn." He murmured and then he grinned, "I am rather fond of you, Chantal. You never bore me. That's why you have to become my wife. Think about it really." He leaned towards her neck and pressed a kiss there, "It'd be nothing but a boost for you. A title to go along with your fame." His lips and tongue brushed the skin above her pulse spot, "Protection, and I am known for providing that." Teeth nipped at her skin and she gritted her teeth, "Also, Mr. Mountfort would never dare slip his foul tongue down your throat if you were my wife." At her huff, he chuckled and pulled back.

"You are just relying on my lack of good qualities." She informed him and made to stand up. He pushed her back down by pressing on her stomach.

She gasped.

"Lack?" His eyes roamed her face, "I see no imperfections."

"And now you're trying to sweet talk me when you are known for resenting such low methods." She accused with a hand on his chest. He looked down at her fingers and smirked.

"It depends on the person I am using the method on. Is it working in my favor?"

"You just want to marry me because I won't ever bother you with offspring. Am I wrong?" She evaded his question and he pulled back abruptly.

He narrowed his eyes and then turned towards the large wall painting.

"It seems that once again my reputation has ruined me." He turned to look at her with agitation, "Are you insinuating that I don't care for my children, Ms. Paige? Hmm?"

"No. But I can see that you do not appreciate them as you should."

"Is that so? Do tell." His voice was as sharp as a blade, but she continued.

"Me thinks that if you stopped restocking your cellar with useless liquor, you'd be more than capable to pay for the wet-nurse. That, my Lord, is a sign of a reckless father." She stood up, "You forget that I live here and that I see things others don't."

"Are you questioning my affections towards Beth?"

"No, my Lord. I am just questioning your reasoning which is obviously blurred by the vast quantities of wine you consume." She crossed her arms over her chest and he sneered.

"Damn you to hell! You and _her_!" He turned away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

"_Her?"_

"My wife used to speak _exactly_ like you. That's why I never accepted her charity. Women like yourself," He turned around and approached her, "have the power to unman a man by simply thinking that you are the better one. Tell me, Chantal, did you ever have to care for a child? Hmm? No." He looked down at her, "Because you are barren and that's something that you will never know." He snarled as he looked at her up and down.

She didn't speak at that. She looked at her feet and curled her hands around her skirts, her knuckles white. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that his words hurt her, wounded her to her core.

He closed his mouth after that and regarded her quietly, his words slowly sinking into his brain and he closed his eyes in resignation.

"Why do you enjoy provoking me?" he muttered a few seconds later and she looked up at him sharply.

"I may be barren, my Lord, but that doesn't mean that the gift that is denied to me is well deserved when given to others. Life is not fair after all and God does make mistakes when he brings parenthood upon certain people." She whispered before she turned and walked out of the room.

"Chantal." His voice was quiet, but when she kept walking his nostrils flared and he stormed after her.

"Chantal!" He barked as she stepped onto the stairs and started climbing them quickly, "For fuck's sake-…"

"My Lord. The carriage is here with Jane." Alcock's voice echoed in Chantal's ears as she disappeared into her room.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_A day later…_

"Where did you get that?" His voice stopped her just outside Beth's room. She touched the thick shawl and slowly turned to face him, her expression guarded.

"Someone sent it to me from the theatre." She replied quietly and he took a sip from his glass before he pushed away from the wall and walked towards her.

She tensed up.

"It's beautiful…and it seems expensive." His finger brushed the dark fabric, "It suits you." His eyes tried to find hers, but she averted her gaze.

His fingers let the fabric go and curled around a lock of her hair instead. She tugged it out of his grasp and his lips twitched at her irritation.

"The gift of an admirer perhaps?" He tilted his head to the side and she sighed.

"I don't know." She ignored the dangerous fire burning in his eyes.

"Hmm." He nodded his head and as she turned to go in he spoke again, "Jane is in there. With the child. They are both asleep."

Chantal frowned, "Pardon?"

He took another gulp of wine and ran his tongue over his teeth before he replied.

"She will stay here. The child will be under her supervision and since she has nowhere to go she was more than happy to accept the position." He walked towards her, "See, Chantal? I am not a bad person. I already had a replacement for the wet-nurse, but you, like most women, were quick to judge and criticize."

Chantal blinked, momentarily speechless that he had decided to help a prostitute by giving her leave to be around his child. Clearing her throat, she moved a little closer before she took a deep breath.

"In any case, my Lord, I wanted to apologize." She raised her eyes to his, "It was not my place to speak of such things. I beg your forgiveness."

He stared at her, his eyes roaming her face and form before he turned around abruptly.

"Let's take a walk." He called and she hesitated before she followed him.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The grass underneath her felt wet and she listened as he dismounted her horse and walked towards her.

He took a seat next to her and handed her a flask. She took it, but eyed it with dread.

He smirked, "It's gin. To warm you up." He chuckled and she smiled a little before she uncorked it.

She could feel his eyes on her face as she brought it to her lips and took a sip. She winced as the liquid burned her throat and brought the shawl closer to her as she handed the flask back to him.

"God."

He took it and watched her as she tried to keep warm. He smirked around the neck of the flask and took a large sip, gritting his teeth against the faint burn it left behind.

"Why do you never ask for things and only demand them?" she asked and he cocked an eyebrow at her question.

"To make things interesting." He replied and at her incredulous expression he snorted, "People are…curious creatures, Chantal. I like testing them…experimenting with them." He looked at her, "And you," he ran his fingers down her neck, "have been quite interesting so far."

She swallowed hard, "How so?"

He smiled and she was startled, "I have come to the conclusion that I know what you will do or say in any circumstance…The only time you let me down was when I put the necklace on you in front of the King…I expected you to pounce, but you didn't." he paused and she shrugged.

"I didn't want to get anyone into trouble, myself included." She looked at the pond in front of them, "That doesn't mean that I had no objections."

"Obviously. You wanted too walk back to Woodstock in the middle of the night." He drawled dryly and she flushed.

"I never said my reactions are always witty enough." She raised her hand and scratched at her cheek which felt terribly itchy all of a sudden. She rubbed it against the shawl on her shoulder, but the itch increased. She decided to ignore it.

"Indeed." He took another sip and bit down on his lip, "When I compared you to my…wife," he started, his eyes distant, "I never meant it as an insult."

She snorted and scratched at her cheek again, "You practically informed me that I was trying to cockhold you."

He turned to her and narrowed his eyes, a playful spark in them. "You? I think you'd be too afraid to do such a thing…and I too fearful that you'd succeed." His eyes fell on her legs and she pulled her knees up towards her chest out of reflex.

"Now you're just pulling my leg…Why not Anne?" The question left her mouth in a rush.

He frowned and took a swing from the flask of gin, "I don't like her enough to have her as my wife."

His response caused her to stop scratching at her face. Surely something had bitten her.

"What about the other things?"

He smirked, "What other things?" His hand touched her knee, squeezing it, "Name them."

She huffed, "My Lord, you know what other things."

He reached up and pushed his hair away from his face before he replied, "Ms. Gardor is easily ruffled, Chantal. She is fuming because of my decision at the moment." He turned to look at her, "Women like her are easy when it suits their purposes." He eyed her peculiarly, "Why are you scratching at your cheek? It's red." He slapped her hand away from her face, but the itching remained.

"I don't know. It's itchy." She tried to scratch again, but he caught her wrist in a tight grip.

"Stop it." His expression was peculiar and she frowned.

"What? Ow!" She gasped when he tugged her closer. The itching had started numbing her whole cheek by then.

He grasped her chin and turned her face away so he could look at her cheek properly.

"What in hell?" he exclaimed and she reached up to scratch again, but he smacked her hands away, "Stop it, you foolish woman!" He pushed her back and got onto his hands and knees. He eyed her clothes and then his eyes fell onto the shawl around her shoulders.

"Fuck!"" he exclaimed loudly as he started looking around.

"What is it? What are you-…Ow!" She closed her mouth shut and reached up to touch her face, but his hand stopped her again. She could feel a sting blossoming from her neck, slowly spreading to her cheek and her eyes widened.

"It's…burning." She whispered and he cursed loudly before he untucked his shirt from his breeches and grasped it in his hands. He pulled it off of him while she watched with wide eyes.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered as she placed her fingers on her face, but he smacked at them again.

"Don't touch your face!" He barked at her as he grasped the shawl and pulled it from her without touching it with the help of his shirt.

Chantal fell backwards by the sudden movement, but she didn't care of the wet ground beneath her. Her entire neck and face was burning as if her skin was on fire. She could feel her skin prickling, feeling it going taut on top of the bone structure underneath and she screamed.

"Jesus Christ!" She sobbed when she felt her skin bubbling like it was melting right off her face.

The Earl watched as sores appeared on her right cheek and he could only stare when her hands started getting red and swollen too.

"Poison." He whispered as his horrified eyes went to the piece of fabric he had thrown away, "It was poisoned." He shuffled forward on his hands and knees and grasped at her bare thighs. Her dress was bunched up around her hips and he pulled her upwards as she writhed and moaned in agony.

"Shh, hush. I need to get this off of you. You stayed in it too long." He tried to explain as his fingers, while previously dexterous with years of practice fiddled unsuccessfully with the laces on the back.

He growled in fury, "Damn them! Stand still!" His voice boomed, disturbing the quietness of the woods and she hiccupped, almost choking on her own saliva as the pain intensified.

Her body couldn't obey though and as soon as he had the laces undone she started writhing in his arms, her neck craned back in an awkward angle as she tried to take deep breaths. Tears clouded her vision and she grasped onto the nearest thing she could find; Rochester's bare shoulders. He hissed when her nails dug into his skin, but he gritted his teeth and remained quiet.

He pushed away the infected dress with his foot and then picked her up. He groaned with the effort and he dug his fingers in the laces of her corset in order to keep a strong hold on her.

"Hush." He murmured into her hair and he nearly stumbled twice in his attempt to reach the horse. The stallion was startled by the Earl's sudden movements and it neighed, throwing up its two front legs out of reflex.

"Earl!" Rochester hissed, no longer caring of the horse's absurd name, and the animal settled back down, its head lowered as he tried to mount it with Chantal.

Chantal's loud sobs and pleads for help didn't help though and the horse moved as soon as Rochester had placed her upon the saddle. The stallion rocked his front legs in an attempt to get away and Chantal tried to hold onto the horse's mane in an effort to steady herself upon the saddle.

She gasped when the animal jumped and lurched forward in an attempt to escape, and she cried out when she lost her balance. She slipped from the horse and fell on her back upon the ground. She rolled onto her back and watched as the horse kicked out its front legs once more, this time knocking the Earl right off his feet. Rochester groaned as he fell onto the ground and cursed. He tried to get up, but the horse had other plans.

"Bloody hell!" He cried out loudly when the stallion ran by him, hitting him on his left leg and causing him to fall onto his knees. A sickening crunch resonated in the quietness and Rochester's painful moan mingled with Chantal's cries.

She could feel tears running down her cheeks from the immense pain, but she ignored them. She watched through bleary eyes as the horse disappeared in the woods and then started crawling towards the man on the ground.

His body was shaking and his hands were balled into fists. His leg lay at an odd angle and there was blood on his breeches.

"My Lord? John?" She whispered his name through her own pain.

She could feel her right eye swelling from the infection and she could barely keep it open as she reached him. She felt as if her entire cheek was on fire.

Her hands grasped his arm and his hand found hers and grasped it tightly.

"Help me stand." He hissed, his voice firm, but Chantal's gaze was fixated upon his leg. His thigh was bloodied and…and…she screamed.

Visible from the gash was a long, but thin splinter of bone.

**End of chapter 14**

**Author's note: Ahem…yeah…I crippled everyone, lol, but you must really worry about the Earl in this…Trust me. ;o)**

**So, liked it? Hated it? Please, please let me know! What do you think will happen next? Hmm? Will she be deformed or will she be cured? And who did this to her? Any ideas? And what about him? Hmm?**

**Thoughts?**

**The idea about the poisoned shawl I got it from a TV series…Don't even ask! But it can happen. And finally, we are slowly arriving to the part I had dreamed to write about…Guess what it is?**

**Anyway….**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina :D**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello, darlings! An earlier update!**

**A huge thank you to: lottielovebuzz, Malsie19, TinkerbellxO, Newland Archer, Jay D. Moore, MissMisc3, XantheXV, dionne dance and Leyshla Gisel. You are all amazing! I was satisfied by your response. Your comments were amusing and supportive and I am glad you didn't see all this coming…:D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_**So, when my days of impotence approach,**_

_**And I'm by pox and wine's unhappy chance**_

_**Forced from the pleasing billows of debauch**_

_**On the dull shores of lazy temperance.**_

_**~John Wilmot, The Disabled Debauchee**_

Her face was burning, but that was not what woke her up. It was the movement right next to her. Groggily, she opened her eyes and inhaled sharply. She was in her chamber, back in Woodstock. The drapes were drawn, but she knew from the gentle light behind them that it was the beginning of dawn. She swallowed hard and groaned. Something sticky was on her cheek and side of her neck. Slowly and with a numb hand she reached up, ready to touch her face, but a strong, yet feminine hand grasped her wrist in a tight grip.

"Don't." Her hand was pushed back down on the mattress, "You mustn't touch your face. It has ointment on it."

Chantal blinked rapidly to blear her foggy vision and then her eyes locked with those of Jane's. She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened.

The other blonde smiled down at her and patted her hand.

"The physician said that it must stay uncovered for a day until the concoction dries. Then we'll wrap your cheek up until it heals." She reached for a glass on the bed side table and picked it up.

"Water?" she questioned and Chantal slowly nodded.

The hurt side of her cheek throbbed dully and the corner of her mouth was caked by the ointment. She parted her lips to drink from the glass, but the skin objected at the movement as it was pulled taut. She took a greedy sip and then looked at Jane.

"How…What happened to me?" she whispered and Jane sighed.

"You were poisoned. The shawl had been peppered with some kind of poison…"

Chantal swallowed hard, "How does it look?" she whispered brokenly and Jane bit her lip.

"It doesn't look good, love. But it will get better. You just need to rest."

_I won't be able to act. I won't be able to step on the stage for…_

"How long will this last?"

Jane put the glass away, "A month at least."

"A month?" Chantal exclaimed as her fingers curled around the covers.

"Yes…You didn't seem vain to me, Ms. Paige." Jane smirked a little and her eyes flickered to the right for a moment.

"Vain? I will lose my position! It has nothing to do with vanity-…" A small gurgle cut her off and she froze. Slowly, she turned to look to her left and gasped.

Beth was lying down in a bundle of linens, her little hands clenching and unclenching on a handkerchief.

"She couldn't go to bed. I was told she's fond of you and it's true. She stopped whimpering as soon as she was placed next to you." Jane informed her quietly and Chantal's eyes widened as she placed a hand on the child's tummy.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" she asked as she sat up, wincing as she did so. For a moment she had forgotten everything but her own pain. How could she? The image of his leg came back with a vengeance and she swallowed hard.

Jane hesitated, "He's unconscious…The doctor's trying to set his leg, but it's not easy."

Chantal tucked her hair behind her ear, "What do you mean it's not easy?"

Jane sat down on the bed, "Well, a part of the bone tore the skin…It's not easy to mend…and he's in a lot of pain. The physician had to give him laudanum to put him to sleep so he could do it-…"

Chantal jumped high in the air, her hands flailing to catch herself when an ear piercing scream resonated in the manor. Locking eyes with Jane who had shot up immediately, she covered Beth and placed two pillows on either side of her and despite her own pain she stood up.

"Wait!" Jane exclaimed as another long drawn moan resonated in the walls, "Don't go!"

Chantal was already at the door barefoot and in her dirty shift. She tore the door open and walked out with Jane hot on her heels.

"Chantal!" Jane's voice was a hiss as they walked hurriedly down the hall, "He won't like it! _Chantal!_"

Chantal paused outside the door and was surprised when she saw Alcock outside of it, staring at it with wide eyes. Gently pushing him out of the way, she opened the door and froze. Blood was everywhere; on the sheets on Rochester's shirt and on his naked thighs. His fists were tightly curled around the sheets underneath him, his ink stained fingers now also tainted by the thick red that was spluttered all over him.

The doctor looked up as soon as she stormed in and his eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Madam!"

"Can I help?" She blurted out and Jane almost collided with her back in her haste to reach her.

"Chantal." She started, but the doctor frowned.

"And you are?" he inquired and a groan from the Earl made her look at him.

Their eyes locked and as she gazed at his sweaty face and wet strands of hair that were falling across his forehead she made a decision.

"I am the Earl's betrothed, sir. May I assist?" she looked away from Rochester's painfully distorted expression and the doctor blinked in confusion.

"I wasn't aware of the fact that I was tending to his Lordship's future spouse, madam… Forgive me. If you are inclined to help I won't refuse the aid. The manservant couldn't be of any assistance." The doctor wiped his hands and then picked up a bottle.

Chantal ignored the Earl's half lidded eyes that followed her and turned to Jane.

"Take care of the child." She whispered and the woman gazed at her with wide eyed perplexity before she smirked knowingly.

"As you wish, my lady." She winked and walked out with a curtsy. She collided with Alcock who looked a little green and then she shut the door with a roll of her eyes.

Chantal turned away from the door and faced the bed.

The Earl's eyes were narrowed and his lip slightly curled as she started approaching.

"If you can lift his Lordship's head, madam…" The doctor began and she placed her knees on the bed, her hands outstretched towards Rochester's brown curls.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Get out…God's sake…" Rochester muttered drowsily as she slid her fingers under his head and slowly lifted it in the cradle of her palm.

"No." She leaned down closer and he sneered weakly.

"Have you seen your face?" he hissed and she cocked an eyebrow even if it was painful for her to do so.

"Indeed." Her stringy hair brushed his sweaty brow as she pulled him up towards her chest, "Are you sure you still want to make me your wife, my Lord?" she murmured and the doctor looked at them oddly before he dropped a few drops from a bottle into a glass of water.

Rochester moaned and gritted his teeth as he rested his cheek on her breast, "Are you sure you don't need to reevaluate your decision to agree?" He looked up at her and then gazed at his bloodied leg with distaste, "You'll be wedded to a cripple-…"

"If your Lordship would open his mouth." The doctor interrupted him and Rochester eyed the glass with suspicion.

"What's in it?" he whispered and the doctor hesitated, "What's in it, Sir Witherley?" he hissed and the older man cleared his throat.

"More laudanum, my Lord."

"I don't want any." He turned his face away from the glass' rim and its contents.

Chantal looked at the physician and the man blinked rapidly.

"But, my Lord, you must! I cannot help you-…"

"It messes with my head. I don't want it." Rochester didn't look at Witherley. He kept his eyes locked on Chantal's wounded cheek.

"But your leg needs stitches! The bone has pierced the tissue and I need to close the wound-…"

"Then do it." He said as he finally looked at the doctor, "It's already numb. I can barely feel it from all the pain."

Chantal gently shook her head at the doctor and reached out to take the glass.

"My Lord, don't be stubborn. You must drink this. It will put you to sleep again-…"

His hand shot out, bloodied, but strong, and knocked the glass out of her hands. It fell on the ground and smashed into little pieces.

"Don't tell me what to do." He hissed before he squeezed his eyes in agony.

Chantal swallowed thickly and her hand shook a little when she placed it on the Earl's chest. Giving up, she let his head drop back down on the pillow again and placed her hands on her lap as Sir Thomas Witherley turned away to fetch a needle and thread.

Rochester gazed at Sir Thomas' back with spellbinding intensity, ignoring Chantal's presence next to him, until the physician turned to him with the needle in hand.

Chantal had the urge to flee, to turn her eyes away from the scene because it was all too familiar. Her own scar reminded her of how painfully agonizing stitches can be and she placed a hand on her belly in remembrance.

She watched with shock as the Earl's eyes followed the doctor's hands and when he poised the needle next to the open slash, her fingers sought something to grab on.

They closed around Rochester's bloodied hand and he allowed the movement, or rather barely felt it because as soon as the first pinch of the needle pierced though his already sore skin he let out a gurgled moan. He choked on his own saliva and gritted his teeth as the thread passed through the torn skin, pulling it back together with firmness. Sir Thomas grimaced as he looked at the Earl, but he continued, from time to time cleansing the skin with alcohol to avoid a mistake.

Chantal bit her lip hard and acted on an impulse. She reached out with her free hand and sharply grasped Rochester's face, decisively turning him away from the gruesome sight.

He groaned and clasped her wrist in his hand, his fingers tightly wrapped around the tender skin and his nails digging into the sensitive tissue.

"I can still feel it, stupid wench." He hissed, obviously perturbed by her innocent act of kindness to spare him the sight.

Chantal cocked an eyebrow, "_Stupid wench?_ Not ugly wench? It would have hurt more." She informed him, not really realizing that she was trying to distract him.

He ground his teeth and closed his eyes, grunting in pain before he looked at her again.

"I've got news, pet. That would be something that you could never be." He muttered and her expression softened until he scratched her hand with his nails.

"But you're still an _idiot_." He pushed her hand away and she gasped.

"If your Lordship could hold still…" Sir Thomas was obviously struggling and the Earl turned to glare at him.

The doctor cleared his throat and looked down at the skin in front of him, "I'd hate to make a mistake is all…and since you refused the drug…"

"Perhaps you've never been given that nasty concoction, Sir Witherley. I am sure the King has also never needed it." His lip was curled in a sneer as he gazed at the poor doctor and Chantal grabbed hold of his chin instead.

"My Lord."

"_My Lord, my Lord!"_ he barked, "I am the one in fucking pain! Get on with it and get out!" Spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled and the physician quickly nodded his head.

"Yes, my Lord. I am nearly done."

"It doesn't feel like you're done." He hissed at him sideways and Chantal gently wiped at his brow with the edge of the sheet.

His gaze, stormy and insensitive locked with hers and she shook her head. He scoffed and closed his eyes, his chest heaving as Sir Thomas pulled the thread through the skin a few more times and then proceeded to clean the skin with more alcohol.

"I shall now bandage the leg and secure it with some wood to ensure the mending of the bone." Sir Thomas murmured and Rochester's eyes slipped open, his lips parted as he breathed irregularly.

Chantal nodded and she couldn't help but notice the odd look on the Earl's deathly pale face.

Dark circles had formed under his eyes and his cheeks were wet with sweat and tears of pain. His nostrils flared with every breath he took and his upper lip was slicked with snot and perspiration.

Reaching for a cloth on the bed side table, she brought it and cleaned his face and nose.

He stared up at her and then turned to the other side as Sir Thomas bandaged his leg.

"Shall I call for help?" Chantal realized that her help was obviously not really appreciated at the time and she decided to leave. His pride was too great it seemed. Of course. While hers wasn't.

"Yes, madam. Thank you."

At the physician's nod, she got off the bed and headed for the door. She didn't look back.

"Alcock. The physician requires your help." She said and the servant stood up, wiping his sweaty hands on his breeches before he nodded.

"Aye…"

Jane gazed at her and then slowly shook her head, "I told you not to go." She whispered as the door closed behind Alcock.

"You did."

"Pride can be a vile thing." Jane muttered and Chantal nodded confidently.

"Then I shall acquire some as well." She murmured before she turned and walked away. She returned into her chamber and proceeded to close and lock the door behind her.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Dear Anne,_

_I must apologize for not replying to your letter sooner. I do not mean to defend myself, but I have been indisposed the last few weeks. A vicious cold has kept me inside and off the stage, but I do hope that I shall be better in a few more weeks._

_The news of your miscarriage reached me just five days ago and while I longed to write to you I didn't want to make your pain any bigger by reminding you of your loss. The only thing I can say is that you must have faith. God is mighty and everything happens for a reason as Mama always said. I hope that you are in good health and I wish with all my heart that you can forgive me for not being there. I will come see you as soon as I am back up to my feet._

_I can imagine why you didn't write to me until you had to after that last letter I sent you. The rumours must have caused you suspicion, but I am here to inform you that the rumours are not only rumours. Don't ask me how or why, but I did in all actuality agree to marry his Lordship. Do not worry about me. There is nothing I cannot face and I assure you that his Lordship is most kind and generous to me. You must be proud of me and you must not lament my fate. There is nothing more that I wish for. I am content. I am only unhappy because I have not seen you. I beg your indulgence and I assure you that I will come see you as soon as my disposition allows me to._

_My regards to your husband. Tell him not to be angry with you. It was only God's will._

_All my love,_

_Your sister._

She dropped the quill and placed her cheek in the cradle of her palm. Her eyes stared dully at the written words and a feeling of nausea overtook her. She pushed away from her desk, almost knocking her chair to the ground; a thing that she quickly regretted because Beth was in the chamber with her. She was among her pillows, her tiny feet in the air as she played with one of her cloth dollies. She was completely oblivious to the world around her, playing and gurgling happily at every little thing that entertained her. She was nothing like her parents. She was neither ill tempered nor insolent. She was tame and rather quiet. The only time she truly resembled her father was when she couldn't sleep. She'd get all annoyed and the curl of her mouth would be exactly like the Earl's snarl. The brown hair atop her head was her father's and only her fuller lips reminded Chantal of the child's mother.

Shaking her head, she turned away from the child and eyed the letter. Most words in there were a bunch of lies. She lamented on the fact that her sister hadn't managed to give birth to the child. Anne had had a series of miscarriages before, but when she finally entered the fourth month of her pregnancy everyone had rejoiced. Now that the child was gone everything had gone downhill. Her husband, although kind and loving towards his wife, he had a short temper with everything that affected him negatively. Chantal couldn't even imagine how his mood was at the moment.

So, she lied. She lied about her poisoning, claiming to be sick with a cold instead. She lied about her happiness; about everything.

She turned around and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her reflexion was…better. Most of the burn had receded and yet the skin still looked swollen and flushed. Tentatively, she reached up to finger the corner of her mouth and the uneven skin there told her it'd leave a mark. The tissue around her eye had been the first to heal properly and it was clean, but her cheek still looked ugly. She had never given much thought to her looks, but now she could see that they had been her key to the world of acting. Rochester had been right.

She had been off stage for a month and she resented her life in the manor. Nothing was like it used to be. Nothing.

Beth had been returned to her care because Jane was too busy tending to the Earl's every need and whim. The man was a menace when sick, but now…now he was even worse. The wound on his leg had healed very little and even if the bone was nearly mended, the wound on his skin prevented him from using it. It had been infected numerous times and the healing process had been prolonged. He couldn't move out of his chamber and that caused him to be short tempered and rude. He barely ate and Jane could only handle him by giving him what he desired; wine.

Chantal hadn't tried to interfere because she knew that her efforts would be rebuked. It seemed like the accident had seeded a wall between them. Gone were the playful teasing and comments. Gone were the long play rehearsals in the Earl's chamber. Gone were his daily visits to London. Gone were the often appearances of Ms. Gardor.

The woman hadn't even showed her face to wish them a good recovery and Chantal had a suspicion why. Actually, she had two suspicions. The first was that she was still sore and jealous because of the Earl's decision not to marry her and the second one was her guilt. The shawl had been sent to her from the theatre, but had no name on it; nothing. She was certain Mr. Killigrew would never do that to his production's leading lady and so, any accusation against him had been overthrown. Chantal didn't think Ms. Gardor was a fool to commit such an offence, but she knew what jealousy could make people do.

She gazed at her vanity and eyed the bouquet of flowers that was there. She narrowed her eyes and stormed towards them. She knew who had sent them; again. She picked up the vase and walked to her door. She glanced at Beth to make sure she was still among the pillows and then walked out of the room.

She moved quickly, her eyes on the flowers until she came to a stop right outside the Earl's chamber. The door was ajar and she could see Jane moving around, picking up clothes and pillows.

The image made her pause. Jane looked flushed, her eyes wide and her lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

"Stop sulking, Jane. It's me on the bed, not you."

Jane glared up at him and Chantal felt bad for looking through the slit, but she didn't move. She wanted to see what had caused Jane such great dissatisfaction.

"Do you know that every time you feel threatened you become like this?" She hissed and there was a pause.

"Like what?"

Jane smirked, "Like an abominable little fucker."

"Ah. The only words that can truly describe me."

"Lose the smugness, John."

Chantal cocked an eyebrow at Jane's tone.

"I do wonder how you dare speak to me like that. Perhaps I should remind you for what you have been useful."

"Perhaps I should remind you that I don't need to give an ear to your nagging. My Lord." Jane's smirk deepened.

"Perhaps you're too weak to lift me up. So call someone who actually can."

"It's too soon for you to move."

"Says who?"

"The physician."

The Earl's bitter laughter rang in the room, "Who? The same one who almost poisoned me when I had the pox?

"Treatments have sometimes negative repercussions." Jane pointed out and a pillow was thrown towards her.

"Oh, you know all about that, don't you? How many times have you recovered from the pox? Too many times. I have lost count." Rochester mocked and Jane's nostrils flared.

"Fuck you." She muttered as she dropped all the clothes and pillows on the ground and headed for the door.

"Jane!" he hissed, but she tore the door open and stepped onto the hall.

"I am not your bloody wife, John! Find one who actually wants to be, although that is quite a long shot!" she yelled and then turned to face Chantal.

Jane blew a lock of hair away from her face and raised her hands up, "Your legitimate wench is here." She informed him rudely before she moved past Chantal.

"Enjoy him. I'll get back to the child." She muttered as she walked away with rapid footsteps.

Chantal blinked, her eyes wide as several curses were muttered behind the half open door.

Licking her dry lips, she eyed the vase and without thinking she stepped into the room with it.

"Back to apologize-…" Rochester stopped short when he saw her.

His eyes narrowed slightly and then he sneered.

"Look what the wind dragged in…" he muttered, "You finally show your face?"

Chantal took a deep breath, "I didn't know I was wanted."

His eyes stared hard into hers and then they trailed over her face. They lingered on her cheek and then they roamed the rest of her.

"You never know anything, Chantal." He murmured, "What are those?" he motioned towards the vase.

"Flowers, my Lord."

He shifted upon the bed and her eyes flickered towards his bandaged thigh. The cloth was tainted with a dark yellow stain.

"I can see that. Who sent them?"

She looked up at him and she saw his slightly curled lip.

"Mr. Mountfort."

His eyes snap up to hers, "What does the little sod want now?" He sneered and she shrugged.

"I have absolutely no idea, my Lord. Perhaps he only wanted to wish me a good recovery."

"Is that so? You have had one." He eyed her face with a grimace full of venom and she placed the vase on the floor before she dared to walk closer.

"Why are you making things so difficult for those around you?" she whispered and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Because I am indisposed and I need to entertain myself."

"Hurting people's feelings should not be a mean to amuse yourself with."

"Do you have another suggestion? Perhaps you'd be so much inclined as to offer me something more amusing?" He cocked his head to the side, "A quick shag perhaps. It will cost you nothing and it'll be pretty swift, I swear it." He pursed his lips in glee when her eyes flashed.

"It will cost you though."

He paused, "What is the price?"

It was her turn to cock an eyebrow, "The loss of my respect towards you."

Her words caused his eyes to narrow, "I am not a child to be scolded, Chantal. I am not impressed that you wanted to play the nurse."

"Is that why you disregarded my attempts at comforting you? Is that why Jane left?" She asked him straightforwardly and he snarled.

"God damn you, woman! Do you think I enjoy being forced to remain upon this bloody bed? I hate it! Do you hear me? Offering me comfort means nothing to me if I cannot bloody walk!" he hissed and she could see beads of sweat on his brow.

She stepped closer, "You will walk. But if you continue treating your body like it's nothing, you won't. Treating people like they are insects won't help you either." Her eyes dropped to his clothed lap.

"If I walked out right now, what would happen?" she questioned dryly and he eyed his crotch.

"Well, Ms. Paige, I'd probably piss myself. Are you inclined to help?" he scoffed and she slowly rolled up her sleeves.

"I am." She informed him and his eyes widened minutely before they narrowed.

"Do tell."

"But I do have a few conditions." She started walking around the bed towards him.

"Conditions?" he spat the word like poison.

"Indeed." She pushed the chamber pot towards the bed with her foot and he followed her movements with his eyes, "Number one you will allow the maid to help you wash." His eyes flashed dangerously, but she continued.

"Number two, you shall eat properly."

His ground his teeth and pressed his lips together.

"Number three, you will minimize your alcohol doze to one glass per day until you are well." She finished as she stopped right next to him.

"I truly hate you." He murmured quietly, "Taking advantage of my condition." His eyes roamed her form, but she didn't flinch back.

"My Lord," She leaned down towards him, "You have been using it against us for weeks." She paused when her face was a breath away from his, "And you smell funny."

His lips twitched and his gaze fell on her mouth, "I do have one condition." He spoke lowly.

"Which is?"

"You shall wash me. With Alcock. If I see Jane again in this room right now, I'll probably throw my diseased leg at her. It won't be tricky to remove it from my hip." He smirked when she flushed a little, but was surprised when she tapped his cheek condescendingly with her fingers.

"As your Lordship wishes. Who am I to refuse?" she paused, "What shall I do?" she eyed him with hesitation and he started laughing before he placed a hand on her shoulder to haul himself upwards. She didn't know that it was the first time he had laughed in weeks.

Her arm went around his back and he pushed her onto the bed right by his shoulder as he turned. He groaned in pain.

"Bloody hell." He hissed through gritted teeth as he reached down to do his business.

Chantal averted her eyes and placed a hand on his hair instead. It was slick with sweat and she frowned. Her fingertips brushed his forehead and he looked up at her.

"I think Sir Witherley must come by for another visit-…"

"Your cheek heals well." He cut her off as he quickly fixed the button of his drawers. As he did so she caught sight of his crotch and cleared her throat nervously. He didn't notice and she blamed it on his slight fever. He would have noticed and commented on her reaction otherwise.

"It does." She replied as she gently let go of him. He rolled onto his back with small moan and breathed heavily.

"I want you to write a letter for me." He breathed as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Chantal pushed the chamber pot away and looked at him.

"My Lord?"

His eyes flickered towards her, "I must write to the King. He'll be wondering about us. Then I must write to Killigrew. You must return."

"Return? With this face?" she exclaimed and he narrowed his eyes.

"Actors need to act. Looks are just an added bonus."

She averted her eyes and he continued.

"I will ask explanations about the shawl." He sneered, "Whoever dared to endanger a future Countess is worthy of death, don't you think?"

She gasped, "My Lord. Ask nothing from the King. Whoever did this will only be provoked further."

He sat up and grasped her elbow, hauling her closer, "You suggest I do nothing? Impossible. Do not ask this of me."

She swallowed hard, "Fine…My horse has not been found yet." She said quietly and he paused.

"No. It probably got a scare…Alcock didn't see it when he came for us." He muttered as he loosened his hold on her. He grasped her chin with his fingertips and raised her face so he could look into her eyes.

He smirked, "I'll get you another horse." His thumb brushed her lip, "Can I have my one glass now or later?" he asked and a chuckle escaped her mouth.

His mouth curled further upwards until he was grinning crookedly at her and his hand slowly curled around the back of her neck. His skin was hot and his palm slightly sweaty, but she could only watch as he leaned closer.

When his lips captured her bottom lip, she exhaled sharply and when his tongue laved at the tiny, but rough patch of skin at the corner of her mouth she groaned. His teeth bit down on her lip and when he tried to fully press his lips against hers, she jumped back. She clamped her hand over her lips, her chest heaving while he dropped back down onto his bed, his eyes dancing and his mouth slicked by his tongue which darted out to taste her on his lips.

"I…I'll fetch Alcock for the water." She muttered before she quickly turned and walked out of the chamber with her heart in her mouth.

**End of chapter 15**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. Liked it? Hated it? Please, let me know!**

**This chapter had a purpose so, I am sorry if it seemed…filler-ish. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Comments, please?**

***Info: Sir Thomas Witherley was Physician in Ordinary to King Charles II so, I did not make him up.***

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: So sorry for the terrible wait! A huge thank you to my remaining reviewers, I hope you're enjoying your summer: dionne dance, TinkerbellxO, whatcatydidnext, Newland Archer, lottielovebuzz, MissMisc3 and Leyshla Gisel. Thank you all! **

**Also, the opening quote/poem of this chapter kind of has the opposite meaning in this update…You shall see what I mean…I hope.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 16 **

_**Out of stark love, and arrant devotion,**_

_**Of marriage I'll give thee this galloping notion.**_

'_**Tis the bane of all business, the end of all pleasure,**_

_**The consumption of wit, youth, virtue and treasure.**_

_**~ John Wilmot, Of Marriage (1673)**_

Chantal gently fingered the area around her scarred cheek. The red was still prominent despite the salve she still used three times a day, but the worst was the raw, uneven scar the poison had left. It was spread in short bumps all over her cheek and it was worse than the scar on her stomach; probably because it was visible and not hidden beneath layers of clothing.

"What ado you plan to do about it, Chantal?"

Chantal looked up and she saw Nell Gwyn through the mirror. The pregnant woman had her arm wrapped around her swollen stomach, but her countenance was calm, peaceful if not slightly worried.

"What can I do?" Chantal shrugged gently, "It's been over a month, but the rash won't go. Mr. Killigrew couldn't work with my understudy any longer."

Nell nodded her head, "Especially after Lord Rochester's letter."

Chantal tensed up, "He only did it to help me."

"Indeed." Nell walked over to her and picked up a small jar of white powder, "He can be very persuasive."

Chantal's shoulders slumped, "I wanted to come back."

Nell cocked an eyebrow, "Did you really?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so, love."

Chantal turned around in the narrow chair, "Why do you say that?"

"I think you only returned to satisfy his Lordship. You detest his reproach, heavens know why." Nell placed a hand on her hip and looked down at her closely.

"I do not fear his reproach…He…" Chantal trailed off.

"Yes? Go on."

"He wasn't very eager at first for my return…But I think it was Mr. Killigrew's protestations that provoked him."

"What do you mean?"

Chantal stood up, smoothing her hands over her Juliet gown, "I won't be presented as a weakling." She muttered and Nell's eyes widened.

"Oh. Another plan to raise the theatre's popularity?" She started pacing Chantal's dressing room, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I see. What a better promotion for quality when the leading actress ignores the gruesome sight of her face in order to deliver Shakespeare's Juliet?"

Chantal cringed, "That was not my intention. I don't want to be painted as a hero, Ms. Gwyn."

"I wasn't talking about you, my love." Nell paused, her eyes narrowed, "I was talking about the patriarchy that is smothering us." She huffed, "You know how many performances I had to participate in after the news of my pregnancy? Hmm? Two performances a day when there was always one. Mr. Killigrew knows all about increasing his profits. Needless to explain the reason why most people came to Theatre Royal when my belly started showing."

Chantal had never thought of that, "We are women."

"We are not rugs, Chantal! Such exploitation." Nell growled low in her throat, "I wish I were a man. Just for one day."

Chantal smiled despite herself, "Well…That I cannot deny. That is my wish as well."

Nell paused and sighed with more calmness, "I apologize for this outburst. You cannot imagine the things I've seen and heard in this playhouse."

"It cannot be worse than the Duke's." Chantal teased and Nell rolled her eyes.

"No, I imagine it is not." Her eyes roamed Chantal's form, "So, you need help with those laces?"

Chantal nodded mutely before she turned around. Nell's hands were firm, but meticulous and she bit her lip.

"You think that he can do whatever he wants with me." She breathed and Nell paused.

"I beg your pardon?"

Chantal turned and looked at her from over her shoulder, "Lord Rochester. You think he bosses me around." She shook her head.

'No, I do not think profit was in his mind." Nell tugged hard at the strings, "I think he simply wants to build you some confidence which I think is good. Especially now." Nell smirked knowingly.

Chantal flushed, "I don't understand."

"You know, I've known Johnny since I first came to Court." Nell started, "He was at his peak. Married, popular, the King's best friend and protégé…Sobriety an unknown word, but with wonderful amounts of wit in abundance. I was charmed." Nell paused as she tied a bow.

Chantal turned to look at her, "Go on."

Nell looked up at her, "There are two categories of men, darling. The first, are the simpletons. Men, who fall deeply in love, tie themselves to one woman for the rest of their lives. These men …opt for stability. Then, in the second category, we have the men who are driven to the extreme by love…or whatever they feel. They are like wild horses." Nell waved her hands about as Chantal turned to face her, "They are insanely connected with a person, almost steered towards faithfulness, but they do not see it like a blessing at all. They feel…confined, trapped; _imprisoned_. So, the wildness turns into madness. And what do insane horses do, hmm?"

Chantal swallowed hard, "Try to escape."

"After being slightly tamed by their masters…These men are tamed by their feelings. And what comes next?" Nell smiled.

"Self destruction. Ruin." Chantal murmured as she recalled her own past.

Nell nodded her head, "Indeed. They exceed in all."

Chantal took a deep breath, "Let me guess. You just tried to draw me a picture for the Earl of Rochester. Am I correct?"

Nell smiled, "You are. That is who he is. You know what he said to me the first time he saw me act?" She cocked an eyebrow and Chantal shook her head in the negative.

"He told me that I was whining like a bitch in heat upon the stage. It was the truth. I had not trained my voice before I decided to step onto the stage."

Chantal's lip curled, "That's incredibly rude." She commented and Nell raised a hand.

"Indeed. But at the same time incredibly helpful. Honesty for all intents and purposes. I don't think he did it for me. I think he simply wanted to hear eloquent dialogue while in the playhouse."

"Personal gain."

"Especially after he realized I was going to be the King's favorite actress." She winked.

"So, you're trying to enlighten me about the selfishness of his nature?" Chantal sighed, trying to understand.

"Yes. And I am trying to tell you that maybe for once he acted for your benefit. Why should he care? He's bedridden. It would have no effect on him."

"Aside from his reputation." She muttered.

"Which he has ruined after proposing marriage to an actress."

Chantal cringed, "What does the King have to say about that?"

"The King would be only half as happy if you became his new mistress instead, dear." Nell was dead serious and Chantal cleared her throat.

"Pardon?"

"The King never approves of anything he wouldn't want for himself. Especially when it comes to women."

"So…he also wanted the late Lady of Rochester?" Chantal was a little confused.

"The late Lady of Rochester was admired by all, Chantal. She didn't need the King's…tame praise." Nell shrugged, "I suppose your betrothal to the Earl was the cause of your accident."

Chantal nervously wrung her hands, "You're speaking of revenge."

"And I already have a few in mind." Nell nodded.

Chantal held a hand up, "I do not want to know."

"What?" The other actress' eyes went wide.

"I simply do not want to know."

"Why?"

"Because…if I acknowledge this," She waved a hand towards her face, "it would only mean that I am bothered."

"And you're not?"

"Of course I am!" Chantal sighed in exasperation, "My face still hurts. But above all it hurt to know that someone hated me enough to do this. Especially when I have done nothing to provoke such hatred."

Nell looked at the wall clock and then sighed, "Unconsciously no, you haven't. But remember, humans are envious creatures. We can become vultures." She placed her hand on Chantal's shoulder.

"So, what are we going to do about your face?" She smiled and Chantal took a look in the mirror.

"Nothing. The physician prohibited me to put anything on the rash."

Nell gulped, "You're stepping out there…like this?"

Chantal firmly nodded her head before she leaned down to slip into her shoes.

Nell watched her with wide eyes.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You cannot convince me otherwise!" Nell exclaimed as the carriage arrived at Woodstock.

Chantal fiddled with her gloves without looking up, "It's mere curiosity."

"Curiosity?"

Chantal looked up, "Alright. I'll admit that I was greatly bothered by her presence, yes? I felt…judged."

"Gawked at is a more accurate word." Nell muttered and then smiled, "But you were excellent. Mr. Mountfort had eyes for no one else."

Chantal shook her head in amusement, "Mr. Mountfort?"

"Hmm. He even ignored Anne…who disappeared after the second act." Nell murmured speculatively.

Chantal sighed, "We're here."

"Excellent. I cannot wait to tell the news." Nell was out of the carriage before Chantal could blink. She was surprised that the pregnant woman, who had just entered the last month of her pregnancy, could move so quickly.

The manor looked very quiet as Chantal stepped out of the coach. Frowning, she followed Nell and when Alcock was nowhere to greet them, she placed a hand on the other woman's arm.

"Perhaps it'll be more prudent if I see if anyone is awake first."

Nell snorted, "He doesn't sleep-…"

"You might be surprised. Lately…" Chantal trailed off before she headed for the stairs. The corridor was empty and Jane was nowhere to be seen. As she approached the Earl's chamber she heard some rustling and quiet moans.

Frowning in alarm, she pushed the door open without thinking. At first she didn't see anything, but then she noticed the figure upon the bed. He was hunched over, trying to reach for the bottom drawer of his bedside table.

"My Lord!" she exclaimed as she left the door ajar and hurried inside the room. As she turned around to walk over to him she noticed the thick layer of sweat upon his skin. Fat beads of sweat were coating his forehead and upper lip and she could see that strands of his hair were clinging to his cheeks.

Upon hearing her voice, he froze in mid-move. Groaning, he turned towards her as she approached.

"You're early." His voice was sharp and cutting and for a moment she was sure that she could detect a slight tremor in the muscles of his arm, but he quickly retracted his hand and curled his fingers into a fist, pressing it against his stomach.

"I…came with Ms. Gwyn's carriage…More horses…Um, can I assist you?"

"No." He shook his head and licked his upper lip, grimacing at the salty taste of his own sweat.

"Are you hot? I could open a window."

"I'm fine. You should go tend to your guest." He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were firmly locked upon his bandaged leg.

"Actually, my Lord, she is your guest. She came to see you. Shall I invite her in?" She smiled, but he looked up at her, his eyes narrowed.

"No, you may not. I didn't invite anyone! Now be gone." He pressed the side of his head against the soaked pillow, shutting her out and she frowned.

She abandoned her shawl and gloves and stepped closer, "Very well…I will ask her to stay the night then. You may wish to see her in the morning."

He remained silent and she quickly glanced at his wounded leg. The bandages were secure and since the bones were mended she knew that he wasn't in such great pain. So, what was the matter? He looked ashen.

"Won't you ask about the play?" She changed the subject and he scoffed.

"I am sure you were magnificent despite your deformity." He hissed and she tried not to flinch back. He had never commented about her face in a demeaning way.

"Your…I mean, your daughter's mother was there to see the play."

He smirked cruelly, his eyes upon his nightstand, burning holes in it.

"Good. I am delighted I wasn't there." He grimaced and bit down hard on his lip.

Chantal nodded firmly, "I think a visit from the physician is due-…"

"Mind your own fucking business, Chantal." He cut her off and because of the strenuous movements of his chest she could see that the sweat was sliding down his neck only to pool on his collarbones.

"I am minding my own business, my Lord." She took a step closer, "I wish to know why you've confined yourself in this room for the past three days. You've allowed no one to come in."

"Did it ever occur to you that I might want some quietness?"

"Let me see your leg." She stepped forward, but before she could move his cane came hard down on her hand.

She cried out more from surprise than pain and froze. She had forgotten that he had been keeping it next to his bed.

"Don't touch me. If you so wish to be of help, open that drawer and hand me the vial." He curled his lip without letting go of his cane.

Chantal pressed her lips into a thin line, "I think I shall not unless you let me see your leg. As soon as I see it I can help you have a proper bath." She reached out again, but this time he caught her hand. She gasped when his fingers curled around her thin wrist and started squeezing.

"Ow, my Lord!"

"You have outreached your boundaries, my _darling_. Being my wife doesn't mean being the master of me. It means obeying me." He tightened his hold and Chantal was surprised by the strength of his fingers.

"You're hurting me!"

He abruptly let go and collapsed on top of the pillows, "Get me the vial."

"Like that I won't." she muttered as she turned around and headed for the door.

She could hear him cursing behind her and when she was at the door, she heard his voice.

"Wench." It was spoken with such animosity that she shuddered.

She paused and her eyes went wide. Turning slowly, she let her eyes drop to his shaking hands again.

With a determined expression, she walked over to him. His eyes went wide and he started leaning forward, but she wrapped a hand around his sweaty neck. With force she didn't know she possessed, she thrust his body back down on the mattress.

He moaned as the action jolted his recovering leg and when her hand started moving over the back of his thigh for the bandage he started writhing under her hold.

"Chantal." His voice was a hiss and when she started removing the cloth he wrapped both hands around her wrist, trying to shake her off. She didn't release him despite the pain and he got frantic.

"No. _Chantal!_" he bellowed, but she was already half done.

With a final tug the bandage fell away and she froze. His leg was straight and it looked like the bone had mended well, but the skin wound was a mess. The area around the patch of skin that had been pierced by the splinter of bone was a harsh red and the actual wound was swollen and reeking.

Placing a hand over her mouth, she stumbled back, slowly loosening the hold on his throat.

His left hand fell away from her wrist, but he held onto her arm that was holding him down with the other one with all his might. His chest and stomach were heaving with his harsh breathing and she could see the alarm in his dark eyes. Alarm for being gawked at.

"Why…why didn't you say anything?" she whispered before she turned and reached for the bedside table.

"Chantal-…"

"No!" She got free of his hold and opened the drawer. She grasped the vial and gazed at it carefully. There was no tag on the bottle and she looked at him.

"What is this?"

He sneered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Uncorking the vial, she lifted it to her nose. She recognized it immediately. She used to take it too in the past; right after her accident.

"Laudanum?" she whispered in shock, "You were hell bent not to take any the first time."

"I am known for changing my opinion frequently."

"How long have you been taking this?"

"None of your bloody business! Get out of my sight." He reached for the bottle in her hand, but she stepped back.

A spasm of pain twisted his face and she stared at him in horror.

"Give me the bloody drug, Chantal. I mean it."

"No. I am going to call for a doctor. We need to tend to your leg."

Rochester growled, "I know what it is!"

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"The pain passes with the drug."

She raised the vial _and_ her voice, no longer caring if Nell could hear her, "This causes severe addiction. Your hands are shaking. I am not giving you any more. You'll just have to bear the pain."

"Fuck you." He hissed, "You know nothing."

The words stung, "Is that so?" She pushed her hair behind her ear in an effort to remind him.

He grunted like an animal and shut his eyes.

"The wound has obviously been infected. There is pus in it. We must consult a doctor at once." She spoke quietly as if speaking to a child, but he only gritted his teeth against the pain.

"It might help if you had a bath. I will help you. In the meantime, I am going to put a cold compress on it." She leaned down and locked the vial away in his bedside table, inside the very last drawer, and then pushed the furniture out of his reach.

"You're a glutton for punishment." He hissed lowly as he jerkily covered his infected leg with the soiled bandage.

Chantal closed her eyes, "My Lord," she turned towards him, her eyes soft, "Has anyone ever told you that you're an idiot?"

Rochester blinked once, twice, three times and then sneered, "No. On the contrary."

"Indeed. Then why do you insist on treating _me_ like one? Where is Jane? Alcock? I need help."

Rochester watched her like a hawk, "You know, Chantal." He sniffed and wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, "You make me wonder."

She paused, "About what exactly?"

"If your concern is real."

She let a smile reach her face, "Well, my Lord, you surely do test my limits."

His eyes and face sobered up, "I want my laudanum." He spoke quietly.

"No."

"If I am going to bathe, I need the numbness."

"No."

"I hate you, little wench." He closed his eyes, refusing to admit defeat and she shrugged.

"Ah, but I am not, am I?" He looked up at her, his eyes glimmering oddly, "I am a respectable woman now."

He smirked a little, "Not yet."

"I shall return shortly."

She could feel his eyes burning holes on her back.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Hold this soap?" She requested loudly and Rochester rolled his eyes.

"Where's Jane?"

"Whatever do you mean? She is busy." Chantal eyed the wound on his leg.

_Remove the pus. Trust me._

Nell's words were a constant mantra inside her head and she looked up at the Earl's face. He was fingering and sniffing the musky soap, obviously distracted by the warmth of the water and the heavenly scent of the bar.

"She had to watch over Beth." She said lightly as she took the washing cloth and slowly closed the distance between her hands and his leg. Ensuring his distraction, she brushed one soapy hand over the taut muscles of his chest and stomach.

He jumped a bit and his eyes fell on her hand. He quirked an eyebrow, but smirked lecherously, watching her as she rubbed the soap on his neck.

"Alcock?" His voice was husky.

"Outside till we're done." She smiled and when she removed her hand, his eyes went back to the spare bar of soap.

"Hmm."

"Ms. Gardor was asking for you…And Mr. Mountfort is sending his regards." She murmured as she slowly guided her hand back towards his thigh, trying hard to ignore his groin.

"How…exciting." He curled his lip and rubbed the soap between his hands in interest.

Chantal bit her lip and slipped her fingers closer to the infected area. He barely noticed and she took a deep breath. Subtly abandoning the cloth, she then placed her fingers around the bump, at first barely brushing his skin. He shifted a little and she knew that she was betraying his trust, but she had to. She had promised not to touch his leg.

"Yes…There were a lot of people in the playhouse…I was…impressed." She inched her fingers closer, applying more pressure.

"Hmm. Of course." His lips twitched as he rubbed the pads of his fingers together.

"Mr. Mountfort asked if he could pay you a visit, my Lord…" She looked up to make sure he wasn't watching. He eyed the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

"No. He cannot." He muttered and she paused.

"Why? He is ever so polite…"

_Liar…_

_I just need to distract him._

Rochester huffed, "Don't be so naïve. He wasn't polite when he was fornicating with your mouth on stage." He spat and she smirked when he went back to his soap.

"Indeed…But I am sure, it was a lesson well learned. After all," she resumed her efforts and pressed hard down on his skin, "I am no one's but yours." She squeezed the skin and the pus burst from the tissue like an explosion.

A raw roar escaped the Earl's mouth and his hands dropped the soap and searched for the source of pain.

His fingers, wet and soapy curled around her wrists and his expression was wild and agonized.

"You…cunt." He spat out the insult, but she felt proud of herself.

"My Lord?"

"You deceitful, cunning little _cunt_." His words were strained and breathless, but there was venom in them.

"It feels better though, right?" She whispered and his hateful glare was enough to make her blush.

"If you could release my hands…" She trailed off saucily and Rochester released her at once, pushing her harshly backwards. She landed on her bottom, but she only laughed.

"I'll finish." She leaned forward, ready to submerge her hands in the water again, but he flinched.

"Get your hands off of me."

She laughed, not noticing his serious tone.

"It's done, my Lord. If I can finish cleaning it-…"

"I said don't bloody touch me! Devil!" He barked as he covered his leg with his hands and she paused, realizing that he was not teasing her.

"My Lord…" Her voice was soft, but he lifted his chin.

"Get out." He jerked his head towards the door.

"My Lord!" she gasped, "I only wanted to help." She touched his slick shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

"I don't need your help!" he hissed, "You think this is amusing? Get out."

Chantal was at a loss for words. She only wanted to help.

"I apologize. I know it hurt, but it had to be done-…"

"I won't have you tell me what to do, Ms. Paige." The formal use of her name made her feel cold.

"But I-…"

"Next time you plan on causing me pain, warn me first." He let go of his leg, grimacing as the dark yellow liquid danced around in the water, and then grabbed the washing cloth.

"I'm sorry."

"Tell Ms. Gwyn that if all the help she can provide is have you do her bidding, then she can return back to London." He raised his eyes up to hers, "Right now."

Chantal was shocked by his words. How did he know…?

"But I suppose your tame nature doesn't allow you any personal opinion, does it?" he remarked cruelly and she flushed.

"Poor little Chantal wouldn't hurt a fly if not told otherwise by her trusty companion; the King's wench…" His voice took a mocking tone and it hurt her. She had only wanted to help; help him.

"I only had one trusty companion for the last few months, my Lord." She shook her head before she stood up, trying to smooth down her soaked gown, "It was you. Until now, I suppose."

He paused and his eyes locked with hers, but not for long. She averted her gaze and sighed, missing the slight glimmer of confusion that lit up his eyes, along with the shimmer of mild regret that followed.

Turning on her heel and feeling like a fool for acting on impulse, she headed for the door.

She heard the splash of water as the washing cloth fell into the tub once more before she heard his voice.

"Chantal."

She had the urge to keep walking, but she heard his pained groan as he shifted in the tub. She came to a stop a few feet away from the door.

"The feeling is mutual…Despite your inclination to cause me pain," She turned to look at him and she could see with disbelief that his mouth was stretched into his familiar half smirk, "along with the fact that you are pathetically and irrevocably good for my roguish reputation, there is no other woman on earth whom I could trust to call wife."

His gaze shifted lower and fell upon his lap and more specifically his crotch. He smirked and looked up again.

"I don't suppose you could make up for all the pain by lending a hand, could you?" His eyes were half lidded and his expression playful even through the pain that was still coursing through his leg, "It's been extremely _dry_ these past couple of months."

Chantal blinked rapidly and when his meaning sank in, she almost choked on her saliva.

"If by lending a hand…" Her voice failed her because she could see the pain it took him to speak such words to her, but she continued, "you mean carrying on with the bath, then yes. I can lend a hand." She nervously wrung her hands as she slowly returned and kneeled next to him.

He watched her as she resumed cleaning his leg which was by then pulsing with mild pain. He handed her the washing cloth and leaned back, watching her, _studying_ her until he could feel an unfamiliar flutter deep inside his belly, high above his groin. The annoying flutter was burning his insides not with lust or greed. He was burning with respect and that was worse than any lecherous thought or emotion he could feel for her. Noticing the delicate curve of her neck, he licked his lips and when her hand was busy at work with his leg, he barely felt it.

Reaching out suddenly, he caught her hand, startling her. Without speaking, he lifted her soapy knuckles to his lips. Pressing a firm kiss there, he turned her hand and licked a path up her palm until he reached her middle finger.

Chantal swallowed hard when his lips closed around the digit and before she could move there was a very audible thud against the washroom door.

The Earl released her finger with a wet pop and narrowed his eyes.

"Alcock, you cunt. Get away from the door before I feed your prick to the dogs!" He bellowed and there was a loud snigger and a very female giggle before footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Blushing profoundly, Chantal removed her hand form his hold and carried on helping him while he watched her studiously. For some odd reason he couldn't take his eyes off of her hands.

_Odd. Very odd._

**End of chapter 16**

**Author's note: Still here? Anyone? Yes, um, thank you for reading.**

**Comments, please?**

**And no, they are not married yet.**

**Also, who can tell from which TV show I stole the idea for the Earl's infected wound? Hmm? Hints: England, king, women, religion. ;o)**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Welcome back! A huge thank you to: deppfan11, XantheXV, Nellie, TinkerbellxO, dionne dance, Bryan Cranston, Margaret101, xBelekinax, Frenzy In Delirium, Leyshla Gisel and MissMisc3. You are all wonderful!**

**And yes, _Nellie_, it was from the Tudors! Well done!**

**Rating changed to M.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

'_**I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady out of me. I'm not fit to sell anything else. I wish you'd left me where you found me.'**_

_**~ Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion**_

_Just breathe. It is nothing but a dress._

She sucked in a sharp breath as the corset was tugged at by knowing hands. A soft breeze blew from the window and cooled her perspired skin. They were in the middle of December, but she still perspired when she was nervous or upset. It was a natural reaction to pressure. She would have felt better if a certain pair of eyes wasn't fixated upon her from the large bed.

"Tighter."

She almost rolled her eyes at the smug tone in his voice, but she held her tongue. The seamstress should not be the wiser.

"My Lord? It _doesn't_ go any tighter." The middle aged woman exclaimed with shock.

"Limited amount of air helps upon the stage, Mrs. Witherton. How else should the tears come when the heroine weeps for her beloved? Lack of air is the trick."

She chose that moment to look at him and noticed with some displeasure and embarrassment that his eyes were below her neck. In fact, they were trained upon the exposed skin of her cleavage and she placed her hands on her hips, gazing at him through the mirror he was using as a peephole.

"How is your leg, my Lord? Are you in any pain?"

He looked up, not guilty in the least, and smirked, fully aware of the threat and embarrassment in her voice. There was no contrition in that look, no shame and she bristled.

_Damn him._

"Nothing I cannot bear, my love." He took a small sip from his wine and Chantal glared at him. Her glare turned into desperation when he motioned to her cleavage with one long finger.

"Mrs. Witherton." His eyes were upon her naked collarbones and Chantal felt dread falling heavy in the pit of her stomach. Now what?

"My Lord?" The woman was also weary of the Earl's voice. Chantal couldn't blame her. He was _not_ an easy client. And she was a seamstress to the Royal family for God's sake.

"Let us see the gown again, shall we?" He finally looked away from the creamy tops of her breasts and caught her eyes with his dark ones.

"Of course." Mrs. Witherton rushed to fetch the dark emerald gown she had been working on for the last couple of days and Chantal turned to face Rochester.

"I understand the private gown, but won't Mr. Killigrew get angry that you chose to alter my costume?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Fatal mistake. His eyes went right back to her breasts. He had never looked at her so long and hard. Choosing not to lower her arms in fear of appearing intimidated, she kept them where they were and stared right back at him.

"What would you do if I stared at something as inappropriate, my Lord?" she questioned firmly and he cocked an eyebrow.

"You mean my lap? Please, do. I have nothing to be ashamed of." He leered at her and she wondered if it was his way of getting his revenge on her. He was too arrogant to appear weak and in the last few days he had appeared more than a little needy when it came to receiving help from her.

Flushing, she shook her head and sighed, "I am not Anne, my Lord." She pointed out and he scoffed.

"That is certain. It'd be a shame if you possessed her hunger for flesh…Degrading for someone of your talent."

Chantal was surprised by the sideways compliment.

"Desire is wrong?"

"For women of your profession, yes." He leaned back in his fluffy pillow and ran a finger over the lace of his baggy shirt.

"I don't understand."

He sneered, "Of course you don't. Lack of air is making you stupid." He snorted as he took a sip from his drink.

"My Lord!"

He pointed a hand at her, "Ms. Gardor is an opera performer…not an actress."

"I don't see the difference."

"I do. She has to show emotion through her songs. She is not very successful in my opinion, but she has a decent voice. You on the other hand must express your emotions through your countenance, your posture, the flush of your skin… the gaze in your eyes…Your body language must express love, hatred, disdain, joy…agony. Desire is good, but not appropriate when you need to express feeling. Lust is not an emotion, Chantal. It is a primitive urge that appears at the sight of a pretty little thing or an adequate prick."

"Must you be so crude?" she exclaimed with wide eyes.

His only response was to cock an eyebrow, "So, you see I am rather glad that you're so reserved."

She licked her lips and wondered if the seamstress was simply eavesdropping from the other side of the door while fetching the dress.

"So, you mean that oppression is a good thing for an actress."

He paused and then grinned, "Indeed. It makes one wonder what would happen if I let you loose."

"I am not on a leash!"

"Are you sure?" The confidence and seductiveness in his voice made her furious.

"I am not a dog!"

He chuckled and she got even angrier, "No, you're a little kitten."

"Now you're being mean."

He raised a single finger, "Ah." He smirked, "I said you're on a leash. I never said I put it on you. I am merely the one holding onto the leash." He finished his drink in one go and then tapped the rim of his goblet against his lower lip.

"So, you mean I am the one oppressing myself." She clarified while wondering how he had come to know her so well.

"Indeed…Am I wrong?" He seemed eager to know the truth and she was saved by the seamstress' return.

"Here we are, my Lord."

Chantal eyed the woman, wondering why everyone was acting like she wasn't even in the room.

Grudgingly, she took the gown and disappeared behind the screen. She heard him snort and rolled her eyes.

"You never answered me." she called while struggling to get out of the tight Juliet costume.

He didn't reply and she frowned, "My Lord." She peered at him from behind the screen and saw him looking at his bandaged leg that was hiding underneath his dark breeches. He looked up and gazed at her stoically. Flushing, she disappeared behind the screen.

Ah. The seamstress. Right.

Pulling on the dress, she reappeared. Mrs. Witherton rushed to fix her laces and Chantal looked at Rochester.

"It is exactly like you asked, my Lord. Silk…and lace at the sleeves, trimming and neckline-…"

"It's too low cut." His words made both women look up.

"My Lord?" Mrs. Witherton blinked rapidly at his words and Chantal looked at the cut. It was…normal…if not a little more provoking than her usual attire, but she were certain it was the silk that made her look more…bare.

"The cut is too low for Ms. Paige, madam. I think you heard what I said." He sat up a little and winced. Chantal realized that it was time for his doze of herbs.

"But it is the latest fashion! Everyone is wearing it in the exact same manner!"

Chantal realized with surprise that he didn't mind ogling her…What he did mind was others doing the same. It was a matter of claim.

"I have other dresses that are less-…" she started, but he cut her off.

"More lace. I think making costumes for the Duke's has made you forget that not all actresses indulge in the same activities conducted by street whores, Madam."

Chantal flushed and the seamstress' cheeks went dark pink. That was quite a scolding.

"My Lord! It is the latest fashion in France! Her majesty the Queen herself has been wearing this!"

Rochester rolled his eyes, "I wonder why…" he muttered and then stared at the older woman with a bored expression, "Did you hear what I said? More lace. There is a mole on her left breast. Next time I see this dress on her, I want that little spot covered. Am I clear?"

Chantal looked at her left breast. He was bloody right. There was a tiny mole at the top of her breast. Eyes wide, she looked up and found him smirking tightly at her.

Mrs. Witherton nodded quickly and ushered her behind the screen to take it off.

As the woman pulled the dress away from her sweaty body, she wondered what the reason behind the Earl's latest antics was.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

His lips parted and she pushed the spoon inside. He scowled as he swallowed the thick concoction and she gave a soft nod in response.

"That awful?" She put the spoon on a handkerchief upon the bedside table and corked the bottle.

"Vile." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at her expectantly. Staring back, she tried to figure out the reason behind his odd expression. Realization dawned.

"Oh!" She put the bottle on the bedside table as well and took a step back, "Bath. Right…I shall fetch Jane."

"You are otherwise engaged?" His words were a bit cutting and she paused.

"Um…I have a rehearsal at the theatre…and I need to show the new costume to the director…Find out if he approves."

"He has already received word. He approves." Rochester's eyes were narrowed.

"He hasn't even seen it yet-…"

"He approves. I said so."

Chantal fidgeted, "Is there something wrong?"

"Are you rehearsing on your own?"

Chantal almost winced, "No…Mr. Mountfort will be there."

The Earl's mouth curled in a poisonous smirk, "Ah. Of course. Cancel your plans. I need you."

Chantal gaped at him, "I beg your pardon?"

"I said that I need you. We can practice together later. After my needs have been met."

He made the words sound indecent and she eyed him with suspicion.

"No worries, Chantal…" he scoffed and when she didn't appear more at ease he sneered.

"I cannot even find the courage to take a piss on my own. I don't intend to fuck you while you're bathing me."

Ah, that.

Clearing her throat, she moved a little closer, taking a seat near the edge of the bed.

"Doesn't that make you feel uncomfortable?" she asked softly and he curled his lip angrily.

"Doesn't what make me feel uncomfortable?"

Chantal reached out and boldly touched his hand. He didn't move it away nor did he try to return the gesture. His hand lay warm and soft underneath her own.

"Me…helping you…Wouldn't you feel more at ease if someone…closer to you helped you with washing and-…"

"Who do you have in mind? Jane?" he cut her off rudely and she swallowed.

"Maybe she'd be a better candidate."

"Why? Because I know the exact location of her cunt and arse?"

"My Lord!" She took her hand back and his eyes drifted to his now free fingers, "Must you always be so crass? I am trying to be tactful." The words left her mouth fiercely. By then she knew that his dirty mouth was his defensive wall. When was he going to understand that he didn't need it with her?

"Did I ask you to be?" His voice was dark.

"I'd feel awful if you were to help me bathe."

"I assure you, I'd never help you bathe unless I would gain something from that act of kindness."

"Oh yes. Like I gain a lot from you. Your dirty mouth!" she exclaimed with wide eyes, but he seemed rather calm.

"It's in your nature to take care of others. It's because you're barren. No one can satisfy the emptiness you feel and you need to release all the instincts on someone who's done you a little bit of good. In this case, I am the recipient of your maternal instincts."

"So, you're saying that I need to protect you."

"Nurture." He corrected arrogantly, knowing that he was winning when she opened and closed her mouth like a little fish out of water.

"If I wanted to coddle anyone I would spend time with Beth." His fingers closed around her wrist in response to that and she inhaled sharply.

"But you won't. Because you know that I don't approve. No child of mine will be coddled."

"She has no mother around her!" Chantal hissed outraged.

"She has Jane."

"Jane? She was a whore." She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but it was too late. She was fond of Jane. The Earl was too, but his reply wasn't the one she had expected.

"So was her mother. Really, Chantal, I expected better wording. You're an actress. You should know how to articulate yourself properly."

"I didn't mean it the wrong way." She muttered and his hold on her hand loosened a bit.

"I know what you meant. And you know what _I_ meant." His voice was uncharacteristically soft and she looked up.

"I know."

He spoke of attachment. She was beyond that…with both his daughter and him. She was too deep in. Hell, she was even fond of Alcock.

Desperately wanting to change the subject and because she didn't like the way his fingers had started creeping up her arm, she cleared her throat. His fingers didn't stop though and travelled to her shoulder.

"Mr. Mountfort will wait…It is not right." His fingers hooked on the neckline of her dark blue dress and pulled it down a bit.

"Let him wait. Do you really find it in your heart to leave me here?" His thumb rubbed over the tiny mole and she raised her eyes to his. Surprisingly, his eyes were not on her skin; they were on her face and they were darkly persuasive. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"You're terrible." His nail scratched at her skin and she shivered.

"Never pretended otherwise…But you shouldn't feel guilty. After all," He smirked a little as he leaned closer and pressed his nose against her shoulder, just beyond the fabric of her dress, "it is my command. You wouldn't dare to disobey your future husband's wish, would you?"

She laughed and he bit the top of her breast in retaliation, causing her to stifle a little gasp. She ignored the little voice in her head that told her not to allow him such bold gestures.

"Now you're manipulating me into submission." She murmured and when his tongue laved at the tiny mole, she pulled away.

He licked his lips slowly and smirked crookedly, "Too far?" He leaned back and took her hand, lacing their fingers in the process, "Pity."

She stood up, but he didn't release her.

"My Lord." She eyed his hand and he pursed his lips.

"No one would ever manipulate you into anything. Hell, you'd be awful at any forced task. You're too transparent to be used, Chantal…Bugger it." He snorted and she felt uncommonly moved by his words.

"Is that a compliment?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"No." he deadpanned and her face fell, "It's the truth."

She managed to pull away from his hold. He let his hand drop onto his lap.

"Now you know that is no true." She tilted her head to the side and he gazed at her with interest.

"Pardon?"

"You and I both know that when you first approached me your one and only purpose was to knock Mrs. Barry off her throne. Don't deny it." She pointed a finger at him and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't dream of it. It's true."

The admittance hurt a little, but she already knew the truth.

"You thought I had no talent."

"No." His reply was fierce, "I thought that you were too reserved to allow yourself to improve, to develop. Your hesitation to stand up for yourself made me dislike you at first."

"That is a compliment." She was sarcastic and she knew it.

"When you arrived in my care you were too shy to act in front of a mirror. Now you can act upon a stage. You have the ability to conquer the stage by your presence. You are talented, Chantal. I sometimes curse your beauty."

His eyes were burning holes on her skin.

"My Lord?"

"It is distracting."

She gestured to her still healing cheek, "It is distracting no longer."

He clicked his tongue, "That is just a little detail. It makes you seem like…a raw diamond."

She laughed and his lips twitched, "You're being too kind. But I do not intend to give you anything but a good wash."

He cocked an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

An idea struck her, "The costume. You altered the costume…Why?"

He licked his lower lip and gazed at her body, "Well, your scar is earning too much attention. We must direct the course of that attention elsewhere."

Flushing, she was puzzled by his reasoning, "And yet you scolded the seamstress for the gown."

"The stupid nit! Upon that stage you're Chantal Paige; the actress. Off that stage you're the future Lady of Rochester. The Queen has nothing better to do than wear provoking dresses. No one will get between her legs anyway. She needs to feel sorry for herself. What better does she have to do than fondle herself in front of her luxurious mirror?"

She sputtered and covered her mouth with her hand, "You're awful, sir! The Queen is always very reserved. You are a man, of course. You've only learned to judge the opposite sex. Tell me, have you any idea how a lonely woman-a wife-feels when she knows that she is not enough? When she feels useless?" She raised her hands up in agitation, "While your sex flaunts its successes and mistresses, women can only feel useful and proud for child bearing. When you take that away from a woman you leave her bereft. She knows that anything else a man wants he can get it for a few coins and little bit of trouble. How many women can be unfaithful and be sure that they won't suffer the repercussions of their wicked ways? Hmm?" She was breathless after her speech and she waited for the sarcasm, but it never came.

Rochester merely studied her, his thumb brushing across his mouth as he stared at her.

"Thankfully, I have never given much thought to child bearing." He said at last and she nodded her head.

"There lies our difference."

"Between you and me or between men and women?" His cocked eyebrow made her uncomfortable.

"Between men and women, of course."

"Hmm…And how do you feel about disloyalty?" His voice was as smooth as honey, but she knew that there was intent behind his words.

She smoothed a hand down her dress and hesitated, "Unlike some, I am a firm believer that love itself is different than the act of love."

"You mean sex." He clarified.

"Yes." She flushed.

"Fucking."

"I think you understood what I meant. The additional names are pointless." She released a small laugh.

"We are both adults here, Chantal. Surely, if we are old enough to do it, we can also say it." His tone sounded clinical and she found herself unable to disagree with him.

"Yes, I think there is a difference between love and sex. They are not linked."

"I thought that was only for the case of men."

"Women are physical creatures too, my Lord. It may have escaped your notice because you're probably gone once you've finished your act, but you will find that a woman also seeks pleasure as much as men."

He smirked, "Now that is rather bold for you. Do go on. I am having a rather riveting time listening to you talking about shagging."

She simply shook her head, "I am only trying to say that women can be involved with men just for the sake of pleasure and yet they are condemned for acting like men do all the time."

"Fascinating." He bit his lip and tilted his head to the side.

"You're making fun of me." she accused mildly.

"No, I am interested. I am in earnest." He shook his head, "So, what would you propose? What should wives do?"

She frowned a little, "I have never been a wife. I wouldn't know. I just believe that if you love someone, you don't want to hurt them."

"What happens when you're fed up with love?"

Chantal only then started realizing that he was talking about himself. Cursing inwardly, she took a deep breath.

"No one is ever fed up with love. Spouses should ask themselves what their partners want and don't have when they are with them."

"What if they simply cannot help it? What if they find pleasure in others despite their devotion?"

"Then they are weak."

Her reply came without hesitation and he seemed to be amused.

"From your tone I gather that you have been used as such. Am I correct?"

"No. On the contrary, my Lord."

He blinked in surprise, "It happened the other way around?"

"No. Nothing ever happened really."

He smirked, "Ah, merely for experience purposes."

"You'd find my experience lacking."

"Nothing that cannot be remedied if you so wished it." He replied smoothly and she slowly straightened.

"You are using my fondness against me."

He gasped in mock shock, "Heavens, my lady. I wasn't aware of the fondness you speak of." His eyes were glimmering with slyness and she shook her head.

"You are indeed impossible."

"And I shall bear the fruit of my own deeds. I shall put up with your groping."

"And my slowness."

"And the fondling….I wouldn't be opposed to some cupping." He grinned provocatively and she cocked a fair eyebrow.

"I am sure you wouldn't be…" She turned around, ready to call for the servants, but she could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away. Smirking, she opened the door.

"Next thing would be to let me braid your hair." She dodged the large pillow he threw her way and disappeared out of the door, laughing.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Chantal wasn't expecting to find someone else in the Earl's chamber when she returned after her long bath with her play in hand. Neither did she expect to find Anne in such close proximity with Rochester.

The woman was leaning over him, coat hanging open and red hair tousled over her shoulders. For a moment she thought that she had interrupted an intimate moment, but then she saw the hold he had on Anne's wrist. It was anything but gentle.

Not wanting to reveal herself just yet, she stepped back out of sight. She pressed her back against the wall next to the door and when Jane appeared at the hall with Beth, Chantal placed her finger against her lips and Jane came to an abrupt stop.

The baby blinked lively and grasped a fistful of Jane's blond hair.

"I thought I was welcome!" Anne's words were strained and Chantal winced.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my darling. Your beau is in no condition to provide his services. If you'd like to help me use the chamber pot, I wouldn't decline the offer though." Rochester's words were scathing and Chantal knew why. Anne hadn't visited him earlier. It had been weeks. Now she wanted something and he resented her for it. He hated being used, but what he didn't understand was that he had been using Anne too. He had used her desire to climb the social ladder and now that she had proven unworthy of his attentions he resented her for it.

Jane whistled a little and Chantal pointed towards the chamber, but Jane rolled her eyes and stormed right in without preamble. Chantal groaned and followed swiftly. The scene was much different than before. Anne was no longer close to Rochester and the Earl himself was fixing the covers around his lap. He looked furious. Anne looked disgusted and miserable.

"My Lord. Your daughter." Jane smirked when Anne's stare fell on the baby girl and Chantal bit her lip, feeling self conscious at having been spotted in her night clothes.

Anne surely noticed and swallowed hard, "I…I shall leave you then. I shall call another day." She curtsied and Chantal stepped aside.

"I shall escort you-…"

"No need…_Ms. Paige_." Anne enunciated her last name and shot a poignant glance at Rochester who was too busy looking at his daughter to care. Beth was providing a much needed distraction, but the baby girl didn't even know it. She seemed happy to have her father tickling her small feet.

Chantal watched Anne leaving and sighed. Her gaze locked with Jane's who smirked and winked. Shaking her head, Chantal placed the text on the bedside table and the Earl looked up.

"Be seated." He muttered as he slowly removed the ring from his little finger and started waving it in front of Beth's eyes. The baby giggled happily and tried to catch the glimmering jewel.

Jane looked at Chantal who hovered next to the bed and rolled her eyes, proceeding to give her a push. Chantal yelped and Rochester looked up at the two women with a tiny frown.

Jane smiled and Chantal cleared her throat.

"What did she want?"

"To provide her services in exchange for some guineas. Am I wrong?"

The Earl sighed, "What do you know, Jane?" he muttered and Chantal looked at the other woman.

"Not much, Johnny." She shrugged, but Chantal was surprised by the use of his informal name. She didn't have the courage to call him that.

The Earl didn't seem shocked to hear his given name. He only licked his dry lips in a bored manner and dropped a kiss to his daughter's little fingers.

"I hear that Killigrew wants to replace her show. It isn't filling the theatre he says."

Rochester looked up at that, "What?"

Jane grinned, "It's true. Chantal here is far more popular."

Chantal shifted nervously upon the mattress. "Mr. Killigrew did mention another play…He wants to have it showing during the weekends."

The Earl paused and then started chuckling huskily.

Beth giggled as well and Jane snorted.

"Poor Anne…That is why she was so desperate." He muttered, "The sight of my leg didn't seem to sit too well with her though…Why do you think that is?" His eyes were on Chantal's face as he spoke.

Jane clicked her tongue and moved forward to take the baby. Rochester sharply smacked her hand away when she tried to touch his daughter.

"Probably because only Chantal can handle it." Jane replied saucily and Rochester's eyes narrowed.

"Cunt." He mouthed the word and Chantal flushed while Jane chuckled.

"I sure am." Disregarding his sharp look, she picked up Beth and stepped back, "Shall I…" she hesitated, shooting a look at Chantal, "come back later…?" she cocked an eyebrow and Chantal wanted to flee. That was way too personal. She didn't want to know what he did with Jane in his own time.

_Yes, you do. _She ignored her inner voice and focused on the intricate bedcovers.

_You're the one who's taking care of him._

_Stop it._

"No." He replied sharply and Jane's cocked eyebrow rose higher in surprise before she looked at Chantal. Smirking, she gave a small bow and walked out of the chamber, closing the door behind her.

The sound of the Earl's back hitting the mattress, made Chantal look up from the pristine bedding. He slapped an arm over his forehead and gazed at the ceiling. His eyes were bottomless and she found herself wondering what he was thinking. Hesitantly, she inched closer.

"Shall I put a pillow under your leg?" she picked up a spare one and leaned forward. He grabbed the pillow before she could put it under his calf and threw it on the floor. She gasped at the sudden move.

"My Lord…" she started as he eyed her intently, "Shall I leave? It's late-…"

"Your sex can be quite persuasive…Why don't you ever use it against me?" he inquired and she paused.

"I never wanted to." She hesitated and then, "What did she want?"

"None of your business." He muttered, looking away and she blinked in surprise.

"I don't think I can be seductive…" Her words were followed by a look of interest from him.

"That is true."

She winced, "Thank you, my Lord." She reached for the text on the table, "I think I need to go and read alone. Cannot imagine what your sour mood can do to my confidence." She laughed a little and felt her cheek itch in response.

His hand fell heavily on her stomach before she could roll away. Pausing, she turned to look at him. He was resting on his side and his shirt had risen up, exposing part of his stomach to her curious eyes.

"I have the power to vanish her from the London stage once and for all." He murmured as he pushed her back down on the bed. She abandoned the text and eyed him carefully.

"You wouldn't do that." She murmured as she let her hand fall on top of his. His fingers twitched underneath her palm.

"Yes, I would."

"She is already miserable. You wouldn't."

"I want to see it." His fingers grabbed a fistful of her robe and dress underneath.

"Pardon?" Her eyes widened when he started pulling the fabrics up. Her muscles flexed in response.

"I want to see the reason behind your stoic behavior towards my fucking leg." She tried to grab his hand, but he was too swift and his thumbs found the warm skin under her clothes, "Was it really that bad?" he breathed as he locked eyes with her.

She twisted her body in an attempt to evade his questing hands, but it was too late. His fingers were firmly pressed against the uneven skin.

"You've already seen it." She was out of breath and as his fingertips moved along the scar on her belly she shivered.

"No…I _really_ have not." He shook his head and using his elbow as support he slid closer and twined his fingers in her hair. His fingers threaded and curled around the blonde strands and she hissed in pain when he forced her head backwards. His hold wasn't gentle and she could feel her scalp stinging in response to his rough handling.

His face was hovering over her own; his mouth a breath away from her parted lips, his hand firmly cupping her belly.

She could feel the breeze from the open window cooling her feet, but she could sense sweat forming deep in the roots of her hair and upon her brow from his closeness.

"Please, stop." She whispered when his hand started moving upon her skin, moving dangerously close to her undergarments.

"Why would I do that?" he chuckled darkly, almost angrily and moved his hand lower.

"Because I trust you." She breathed the words against his mouth and his hand stopped momentarily.

His eyes roamed her face, pausing to glance at her abdomen and slowly he shook his head.

"You really shouldn't." he hissed before he leaned down and closed the distance between them. Chantal's body jerked under him and his hand moved suddenly, sliding south and prying her thighs open. His mouth devoured hers and his tongue was quick to part her lips. Helplessly, she allowed him to deepen the kiss, feeling out of place at how easily he had reversed her role in his life. She didn't think he could be what he wanted her to be. She didn't think she could ever act the detached, yet passionate wife. She didn't think she could pretend that his ways didn't affect her. She didn't think she could share his bed and then allow someone else to take her place. She wasn't even sure if she _wanted_ to.

His palm cupped her between her thighs and she closed her legs tightly in an effort to stop him, but he smirked against her lips and ground his palm hard against her. She didn't budge. Groaning at her insistence, he dived deeper into the kiss, biting down hard on her bottom lip in retaliation and thrusting his dexterous tongue into her mouth in time with the movement of his hand between her legs.

She choked on a moan and flushed crimson at the wanton sound. What on earth had gotten into him? Cursing Anne for her awful timing, she tried to break the kiss and remove his tempting form from her, but he didn't let her. Instead, he withdrew his tongue and moved his kissing to her upper lip, roughly sucking it into his mouth and biting down hard when she resisted him.

Moving a hand to his chest, she grasped his wrist with her free one. He was tugging too hard at her hair. Her touch made him pause and his grip on her hair loosened until he was merely holding it.

"Please." She gasped as he freed her mouth. Her core was tingling from his touch, but she was too shocked to find any joy in it.

His breath was warm and moist as it fell on her swollen lips and his nostrils were flaring with each breath he took. He looked lost…ruffled; angry.

"What did I do?" she murmured, genuinely confused, but he seemed reluctant to speak.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed her again, gentler this time. Air left her mouth sharply and he sucked on it as if drawing his last breath. Kissing him back was easier this time, but she was still reluctant to express too much through the kiss. She pressed a kiss against his top lip and he pulled back, his chest heaving.

"Fuck." He hissed as he pressed his palm gently between her legs before he slowly withdrew his hand. Her skin tingled, but she ignored it and focused on the way he pressed his face against her shoulder instead. His hair fell forward and tickled her cheek and nose and she reached up to push it back with a gentle hand. He nuzzled her with his nose before he pulled back. Dropping a long kiss to her forehead, he sighed and chuckled bitterly.

"You're too good to me." He smoothed a hand over her scarred belly and then pulled back altogether, rolling onto his back and moving his stare to the ceiling again. Chantal's gaze studied him and when her eyes noticed the prominent bulge in his breeches, she quickly scrambled to get up.

His hand shot out to touch her, but when she gasped he paused with his hand in midair. Biting his bottom lip, he tilted his head to the side, his eyes hooded.

"Stay." He dropped his hand on the mattress between them, "Practice. I like listening to you." He settled back properly on his pillows and pinned her with his stare.

Sitting back against the headboard, she picked up her text with shaky hands. He watched her like a hawk and she couldn't tell what was worse. His new fascination with her or the fact that she was slowly, but surely responding to it…

**End of chapter 17**

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Liked it? Hated it? Please, let me know. Comments feed the muse!**

**Until next time!**

**Xxx Lina :D**


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